Untamed
by Negolith
Summary: Alternate Universe. Project Atlantis is a top secret think tank located in the Pacific Northwest. Acastus Kolya, the project's second in command, has a secret agenda of his own and has acquired a new specimen he's eager to play with, John Sheppard.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Here I was, happily working away on the third installment of the Guardian series, when I had a couple of dreams that were just two dang good to ignore. They were set in Atlantis, but it wasn't _quite_ Atlantis, and the more I thought about them once I woke up, the more I decided that I just had to write this story. So this is an alternate universe, where some things are recognizable and canon (hey, you just _can't_ mess with Rodney), and other things, well, take a left turn at Albuquerque. This is going to be rated mature for language, violence, language, and torture. That I wrote such a story over the holidays kinda goes to show what Christmas with _my_ family is like. :) This story is close to my original fiction, and is influenced by Kim Harrison's 'Rachel Morgan' series, Jim Butcher's 'Dresden Files', and a shout out to Nancy A. Collins 'Sonia Blue' series and her Pretenders - the races of myth and legend that still live among humans. Oh, and also influenced by a healthy dose of painkillers due to a stuck kidney stone. Enjoy!_

**Untamed**

Chapter 1

John Sheppard wasn't much of one for large cities. It wasn't because of the pace – hell, nothing really seemed to faze him and being laid back was just as much part of his nature as his stubborn cowlicks and his slightly pointed ears. It was mainly because of the sheer number of people involved. He had tried to fit in during his youth, much to his father's ire and his family's dismay, but his cowlicks weren't the only thing stubborn about him and he tended to do what he pleased anyway. He spent several years in Denver, even went to college, and afterwards did a stint in the Air Force. But the one thing he learned during that brief period of rebellion was the world at large was full of a helluva lot of assholes. And he would never admit his father may have been right – no matter how hard he tried he just never fit in completely. And now there was a rift between them that was beyond all healing, but in all honesty that didn't bother him as nearly much as it should.

Now John was older, and he hoped wiser, and had a cabin on a dozen acres of land in the northwestern corner of Montana in an area the locals all called The Yaak. His place was simple – the cabin had two rooms, three if you counted the tiny closet of a bathroom – and tended to lose power a couple times during the winter whenever a particularly nasty Arctic front would blow through the area. But there was a backup generator in the pump house and a hundred gallon fuel tank in his garage for those occasions. He was a half hour from Libby if he needed groceries or a cold beer and a game or two of pool if he was feeling lonely, and for any hard to get items or just for the hell of it he could run into Kalispell for the day. But for the most part, he was just content to be a quiet homebody.

The locals were friendly and tended to let him be, which suited him just fine. Oh, there was speculation as to why he wanted to live all alone in the woods, and after the Unabomber thing down in Lincoln he tended to get some funny looks whenever he was in town. But that eventually passed and the general consensus leaned more towards a very bad experience with an ex-wife whenever he shot down one of the local's attempts at matchmaking. He never tried to dissuade them of that notion – it was certainly more believable than the _truth_….

Yup, as far as John was concerned, he'd found his own little slice of heaven.

It was a gorgeous September day – the sun had warmth but there was still a bite in the shade – and John was working on stocking up his wood supply for the winter. He'd been at it since the sun came up over the Cabinets, and the muscles of his shoulders and back were humming pleasantly as he swung the heavy splitting maul up and around yet again. It bit into the dry wood and the round practically flew apart with a good sharp crack. He picked up the larger of the pieces and sat it on the abused Ponderosa stump he used for a chopping block, and one more swing reduced it to a size that would fit in his stove.

John left the maul buried in the stump and swiped his face with the hem of his gray t-shirt. The cool breeze brought goose bumps up on his stomach, and a moment later matching ones along his arms. He'd worked up a decent sweat during the course of the morning and his flannel shirt hung all but forgotten from the door of the wood shed. He eyed the pile of uncut stuff as he tucked his shirt back in and grinned – he just might get that cord done before lunch. He started to sort the split stuff to stack in the shed, and only had half an armload when he straightened up and froze.

John's green eyes narrowed as he scanned the woods behind his cabin. He didn't _see_ any movement, but that still didn't kill the feeling that something was out there, watching him. It was times like this he wished he could have a guard dog of some kind, but the critters just couldn't stand him. Didn't matter if it was the world's mellowest lab or a high strung Chihuahua – they went absolutely nuts around him. He did have a big old tomcat when he first moved in, but he disappeared one summer night his second year in the cabin. John was pretty sure a cougar got him, because the next morning he could smell _eau de tomcat_ pretty strong around the place. Maybe that cat was back, and that was what was making the woods exceptionally quiet at the moment. He remained utterly still for several minutes, watching, listening.

Suddenly John did an odd little exhale/snort and shook his head, a crooked grin lightening his face as he laughed at himself. "You're going crazy from being alone too much, John," he muttered to himself. "Next thing you know, you'll be talking to yourself." He chuckled again as he resumed picking up the wood and stacking it neatly in the shed. That done, he picked up another round from the shrinking pile, and just as he turned to the stump the breeze shifted directions.

John dropped the round and spun. Lips slightly parted, he sniffed the air a few times as he slowly backed up. "Who's there?" he called out as he scanned the woods again. His heel hit the stump and he wrapped his hand around the maul's handle. "C'mon, I know you're out there," he growled as he levered the heavy blade free.

Gun oil had such a _distinctive_ odor.

John settled the maul in a solid two-handed grip and slowly approached his garage, and he made absolutely no sound as he walked. He lost the breeze the second he pressed his back against the wall, but now he could hear soft slow footsteps on the gravel of his driveway. John tightened his grip, raised the maul, and watched the ground. When a shadow started to grow and he figured whoever it was was close enough, he stepped around the corner and swung like Barry Bonds.

The man flinched backwards, and the heavy blade caught the rifle he was holding and forced it upwards and into the garage door. John had just enough time to register a young face, dusky skin, and camo fatigues before he stepped in close and head-butted the guy. He let go of the maul since it was now buried in the door, but it also kept the young soldier from using his rifle because the handle had it trapped. But that didn't slow the kid down. With blood streaming from a broken nose he backed up a step and aimed a quick jab at John's face. But John was quicker. He caught the kid's fist, spun, and planted an elbow into the side of his head. His head snapped into the garage door hard enough to make it rattle in its frame before he crumpled.

A second later something hit the door about level with John's navel. He glanced at the tufted end of a tranquilizer dart, then his head snapped towards the long winding drive that led to the highway only to see another man. "You have got to be shitting me," he muttered. The guy was dressed just like the kid – camouflage fatigues, black tactical vest, black cap, armed to the teeth. And he was loading another dart into his rifle. So John did the first thing that came to mind.

He turned and ran like hell.

The land for a good thirty yards around his place had been thinned, and he knew the deeper woods beyond that like the back of his hand. He made a beeline for the forest and darted between Ponderosas for cover. Something slammed into a trunk to his left, so he dodged right. He made it to the denser growth and bolted down a barely discernable game trail. He followed it only for a short distance before veering off into the undergrowth. Just when he was starting to think he had a chance at getting away from these jokers, something smacked him between the shoulder blades. It stung like a mother, then instantly went numb.

John stumbled and caught himself on a tree trunk. He spun himself around it for cover and tried to reach the dart in his back. Since he couldn't quite get his fingers around it, he just rubbed his back across the trunk like he was scratching a particularly nasty itch and dislodged the thing. He took off again, but his blood was roaring in his ears and all he could really manage was a drunken stagger. He was dimly aware of something else hitting him in the small of his back, and a moment later he tripped over his own feet and slid face first through the duff. He spit pine needles from his mouth and even managed to crawl another ten feet before he lost all strength. Then he finally collapsed and just lay there, gasping for breath, his fingers curling in frustration in the duff.

Someone put a boot under his shoulder and rolled him over onto his back. John blinked a few times and tried to focus on the man standing over him. The guy was huge, and his tac vest looked oddly small on him. A smirk peeked out from behind a neatly trimmed goatee as he tapped a radio earpiece. Then John's vision began to fade, and the last thing he heard before the world disappeared was a deep rumbling voice say, "Specimen has been acquired. Get the chopper ready – we're coming in."

_End Note: So ... yay? Nay? Curious? Furious?_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Since these first two chapters are pretty short little buggers, and it's now the new year and I'm feeling pretty chipper this morning, I decided what the hell - might as well post the next one. :) Here's to 2008 - may it be peaceful and productive!_

Chapter 2

The small Libby airport was unique in that it had two control towers. One was the small functional one that actually served the airport; the other a set piece left over from when Spielberg filmed 'Always' there. The locals thought it would make a cool tourist attraction, and eight years later it still stood.

Shortly after ten a.m. a dark blue Sikorsky S-76C++ requested permission to land and inquired if there were any vans available to rent in the area. The controller gave them clearance to land, and after a short discussion with a buddy who was a mechanic got them set up with a van. It was a former Forest Service rig actually on the premises, its green paint slightly faded and interior smelling vaguely of fish, but it ran, the price was right, and they only needed it for a few hours.

The helicopter landed over by the false tower and one of the occupants riding in the back jumped out and jogged over to the garage just off and behind the real tower. "So, what brings you to the area?" the mechanic asked as he eyed over the very big man with shoulder length dreadlocks and dressed in camouflage.

"Hunting," the big man rumbled as he handed over four times the asking price for the van.

"Huh," the mechanic replied. It was bow season, after all – seeing guys in camo was pretty common the past few weeks. He saw the amount of cash and frowned. "You on the up and up?" he said as he raised his eyes. The tall man just stared at him, the ghost of a smile only touching his lips. The silence stretched into the more than uncomfortable level – more like a _Silence of the Lambs_ creep-out level – and the mechanic actually took a step back. "Uh, around the side. Keys are in it," he said and cleared his throat. The big guy left without a word and the mechanic pulled a grease stained rag from his work coveralls and wiped his neck. He found some courage again. "Don't be getting any blood in the back," he called out to the broad back.

The big guy turned his head just before he rounded the corner and smiled. "Can't make any guarantees," he said before he disappeared.

That smile made the mechanic duck back into his shop without another word. He stared at the bills in his hand before he pocketed them – he recognized 'shut-up' money when he saw it. Hell, they'd had enough Mafia guys hide out in the area in the past that he knew when to keep his mouth shut.

Shortly before twelve thirty the pilot of the helicopter, who had been lounging on the steps of the fake tower after the fuel tank was topped, shot to his feet and trotted back to his aircraft. Then just before one o'clock the van returned and pulled up next to it. It blocked the view from the tower as they unloaded, and in a few minutes the van was coming back to the garage and the rotors of the Sikorsky started moving. The mechanic stepped out as the big guy parked the van, and a moment later the guy tossed him the keys as he jogged by. A few minutes later the heavy whap of the helicopter's rotors picked up and the craft rose gracefully and banked to the west. Only after the sound faded completely did the mechanic get up the nerve to go check his van.

-oOo-

Ronon Dex stared down at the unconscious man on the floor of the cabin and decided he wasn't getting paid enough for this shit anymore. He'd been working for the Project for over a year now, and each request from the colonel for his skills as a former big-game guide and tracker was getting harder and harder to swallow. Most of the enlisted men didn't question the colonel – orders were orders – but he knew the last few assignments were starting to bother some of them. Major Lorne, the de facto head of internal security and their current pilot, was one who shared his unease, and Sgt. Stackhouse, the man directly across from him, was starting to.

But the young Marine lieutenant, Ford, was still the definition of gung-ho. He sat next to Stackhouse, an icepack pressed to his nose and his head tilted back. Every once in awhile he'd lower the pack and glare murderously through blackening eyes at the man on the floor. Ronon had to stop him once from kicking the unconscious man, and if he saw any movement indicating more of the same, he would make damn sure the kid would be joining their 'specimen' on the floor for the rest of the flight.

Ronon's attention went back to the man. They'd been given a name, John Sheppard, and a location, and orders to bring him in alive and unharmed and nothing else. The last person they were sent after had put up a hell of a fight – shit, she'd damned near kicked _his_ ass – so this time they went in quietly and with heavy duty tranquilizers. They hiked in from the end of the road, the van parked just out of view of the highway, and Ronon had barely settled in to observe and assess when the guy suddenly stopped what he was doing and looked directly at him. He spent nearly five minutes on his stomach behind a scraggly raspberry patch, barely breathing, until Sheppard resumed work. Then Ford started moving in, and something tipped Sheppard off. When the man sniffed the air, he knew right then they were dealing with another one of _them_, and he stayed put and waited since the wind was coming towards him at the moment. Then Sheppard bolted and when Stackhouse's shot sent the man in his direction, he calmly waited until he was past and stood. His timing and first shot was perfect and right where he aimed. Sheppard should have gone down within seconds, but he somehow kept going. The second shot finished the job.

He thought the guy was scrawny until he hoisted him over a shoulder to take him back to the van. He was a lot heavier than he looked, and when he flopped him down in the van he took one look at the corded muscles along his forearms and immediately secured his hands and feet with plastic zip cords. That was when Ford started to haul a leg back, and Ronon had to pull him back and slam him against the van to dissuade him of any action he might regret.

The dent in the side of their rental wasn't too noticeable.

He lifted his eyes and saw Ford staring at him. He just smiled back, and a few seconds later Ford put the icepack back on his nose and leaned his head back against the seat's head rest. Ronon kept smiling as he stretched his legs out, crossed his arms, and got comfortable for the flight back to the island.

Not quite an hour into the trip Sheppard twitched. Ronon drew his legs up just as Ford said, "Shit, he's waking up! He should _not_ be waking up." Sheppard groaned as more spasms racked his bound arms and legs. His eyes even flickered open a few times and for a second Ronon was sure they focused on him. Very calmly Ronon undid his safety belt and got up, pulled a tranquilizer dart from a case in Ford's hanging tac vest, went to one knee, and manually inserted it in Sheppard's right butt cheek.

"Everything all right back there?" came Major Lorne's voice over the radio.

"It's good," Ronon replied as Sheppard slowly stilled again. He waited a minute before he pulled the dart out and put it back in its case, then he returned to his seat like nothing had happened. Ford and Stackhouse were both staring at him, so he shrugged and settled back into his comfortable slouch. He kept one eye on Sheppard for the rest of the flight, however, and the case with its second untouched dart was in his shirt pocket.

_End Note: Heee, the gaming group I played with during and for several years after college was fond of the "manual insertion" technique. If it was handy, and had a point, it was used - broken table legs, candelabra, the star from a door sized star sapphire (ask Teprac about that one), Kobolds wearing pointy helmets ... Sigh. I miss those days. So, still intrigued?_


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Exposition alert! Bwoop bwoop bwoop bwoop._

Chapter 3

Project Atlantis was a top secret private sector and multi-government funded think tank located on a remote island off the coast of British Columbia. Rumored to have cost eight billion and five years to build, the multi-level state-of-the-art facility housed the most advanced computers and scientific hardware on the planet, some of which was said to have been reverse engineered in the United State's Area 51. Security on and around the island was tight, and very few people in the world at large were even aware of its existence.

The scientists attached to the Project, or just simply Atlantis to most of them, were culled from the best and brightest the world had to offer, and the international team concentrated on pushing the world into the Twenty-second Century. Research ranged through a wide variety of fields; applied astrophysics, genetics, medicine, quantum engineering, alternative energy sources, botany, biology…. The list was endless, and there were even projects in weaponry and new flight technology that was tied in, again, with Area 51 and a top secret project housed in Cheyenne Mountain. The sponsoring governments and private corporations had the initial access to the advances developed on Atlantis, and eventually all of the world would be able to share in the innovations.

Atlantis was under the leadership of Dr. Elizabeth Weir, a choice supported by all parties involved. Dr. Weir, who began her career as a professor of political science at Georgetown University, worked closely with the U.S. government and was instrumental in some of the most sensitive international treaties in modern history. She also served in embassies all over the world, and her last position before coming to Atlantis was as a special advisor for the United Nations. Able to speak a dozen languages, she became a logical choice for Head of Special Projects/Private Sector, and her own personal curiosity and knowledge in a wide range of fields made her a welcome presence in many of the labs on Atlantis.

Second in command, and overall Head of Project Security, was Colonel Acastus Kolya, USMC. Russian born and the son of a brilliant physicist who defected to the United States during the height of the Cold War, Kolya joined the military only after a few years of college and trying to follow in his father's scientific footsteps. It turned out to be the best choice for him. Kolya was a tactical genius and rose quickly in rank. He served gallantly in both the Gulf Conflict and Afghanistan, the latter of which earned him several commendations and his current commission. When searching for the right candidate for the sensitive position, he became a forerunner among the candidates because of his own interest in science, particularly biology and genetics. All it took was one interview – he proved to be charming, brilliant, and brought up points the Oversight Committee hadn't even considered regarding security – and he rose to the top of the short list. And when the other candidate on the list accepted another commission, he became the _only_ name on the list.

Project Atlantis had been going strong for almost three years when a rift started to grow between the scientists and the military presence. At first it began after rumors of Kolya approving experiments without Dr. Weir's knowledge began to circulate, and when that turned into outright confirmation it started genuine animosity between the two groups. But lately Kolya's experiments were getting too questionable, even by some of his supporter's standards, and at the nearly four year anniversary of Atlantis's founding, Elizabeth's presence was being seen less and less.

Then the scientists on Atlantis learned about Kolya's real interest and the reasoning behind his experiments; the Pretenders – the races of myth and legend that were still among us and who had been hiding under the world's nose, in plain sight, for centuries. They scoffed, and joked, and questioned the chemical composition in the MRE's and how healthy they really were for a human body. Needless to say, the _scientists_ didn't believe it at all.

But when Kolya had the vampire brought to Atlantis nine months ago, they _freaked_.

-oOo-

Major Lorne brought the Sikorsky in low and fast over the east shore of the island and barely cleared the tree tops. The complex was faced with native stone, and during the day it appeared as nothing more than a particularly angular rock outcropping jutting up from the center of the heavily timbered island. But once you got close you could see the reflection of clouds and sky on windows, and the microwave, radar, and communication dishes. The helipad, which was on the roof of the east wing, was the only thing marked with noticeable lights, and at night the trees blocked them as well as the light from the greenhouse and hydroponics garden on the south wing from view to anyone at sea. Even the windows were designed to not show light at night, and he never could really figure that one out. He brought the helicopter down with practiced ease and could already see a small med team with a gurney and a security detail waiting by the open door that led into the main tower. Lorne didn't relax until the rotors were on spin down – the fuel gage had been hovering near empty and in ten more minutes they would have been sucking on fumes. He did _not_ like cutting it that close. He hit the brakes for the rotors and the people waiting approached. Kolya and his pet 'scientist' were with them, and he felt his stomach knot.

Ronon was hauling Sheppard's limp form from the cabin when the crowd arrived. "Here, now – we'll get him," Dr. Carson Beckett, Atlantis's Chief Medical Officer, said as he and his second, Dr. Jennifer Keller, reached for the unconscious man. His Scottish brogue was particularly noticeable today – something Ronon noticed happened when he was under a lot of stress. Or really angry.

"I got 'im," Ronon grunted. "He's heavier than he looks." He got Sheppard's butt on the gurney and the two doctors eased him onto his side since his hands were bound behind his back. Keller swung his legs up with a quiet grunt and dusted her hands off.

"Were there problems?" Kolya asked as he watched Lt. Ford leave the Sikorsky.

Ronon glanced that way briefly and offered a faint smirk. "Nothing we couldn't handle, colonel."

Ford glared at him, but a second later Dr. Keller was distracting him. "Let's get that nose looked at, Lieutenant," she said, her tone actually bordering on chipper, and gently tugged on his arm. He looked down at her, his expression softened, and he allowed himself to be led away. She flashed Ronon a tight little smile before they started for the open door.

Ronon's eyes actually crinkled briefly from a true smile in return.

"Bloidy hell – what did yae do, drag him through the woods behind a truck?" Beckett asked as he checked Sheppard's pulse. He grunted, then checked pupil dilation and made an alarmed noise.

"He ran. It took two darts to take him down," Ronon replied, his face set. "He started to wake up on the way back, had to hit him with another." He crossed his arms and stared at Kolya, seeming to dare the colonel to say something. That man didn't but he could hear the doctor swear under his breath.

"Really, now?" The woman who had been standing next to Kolya approached the gurney and looked down at Sheppard. Carson backed away from her and grimaced briefly like he'd smelled something particularly nasty. She was Dr. Tatiana Chaya, a Brazilian biologist that was brought in on the Project by Kolya himself in its third year. She had the looks of a model, with deep chestnut hair and porcelain skin, but her sea-blue eyes were oddly … dead. She was now running her fingers through Sheppard's spiky hair a little too _intimately_ and smiling. "It's going to be such a fine specimen," she practically purred.

Lorne and Stackhouse stepped up next to Ronon and unknown to one another, the three men shared similarly creeped out grimaces. But they could see Carson's clearly, as well as the outrage simmering just behind his eyes.

"I am thinking about trying something different with it this time, Doctor, since our last specimen was so highly … uncooperative," Kolya said as he placed a hand on Chaya's shoulder. He was staring down at Sheppard, too, and looked rather amused. She turned her head and pouted up at him.

"That's good," Lorne muttered under his breath. "The last one kicked my ass."

Ronon glanced at him and smirked. "She wasn't so tough," he muttered back, and got a really smarmy sneer in reply.

"What, exactly, do you have in mind?" Carson asked cautiously. He didn't mask his displeasure in the least bit.

"Now, now, Dr. Beckett – no need to take that tone with me," Kolya replied, all silk and friendliness. "I thought that perhaps we might try to … _befriend_ it this time." His mask slipped a little with that word, but it was soon back. "Gain its trust first, make it willing to unlock its secrets." A short silence fell over the group as a light mist of rain began to fall.

"That's … utterly preposterous," Chaya said.

"You forcibly abduct him, and you expect him to just blithely forget that fact?" Carson said. He let out a short, humorless laugh. "I think you're sadly underestimating your own skills in the hospitality department, colonel."

Kolya's expression darkened, and now a very _tense_ quiet settled over the group. Ronon found himself stepping a little closer to Carson before it even registered he'd done so, and the two other silent guards behind the colonel tensed and moved closer to their CO. But Chaya broke the silence. "It, it is nothing but a, an _animal_," she spat. She grabbed a handful of Sheppard's hair and gave his head a shake for emphasis. "What makes you think …."

"Tatiana, dear," Kolya said, the silk back but his face still hard. "This _animal_ managed to pass itself off as human for nearly eight years in the United States Air Force. Personally, I think _I_ would like to know how it managed to do that, and locking it in a cage and picking it apart piece by piece like you've done to several of your other specimens may make it even more uncooperative than the female." His hand was still resting on her shoulder and he squeezed. "So we shall try it this way." She still glowered at him, and he applied more pressure. "Humor me."

It was a battle of wills now, and it was the doctor who broke first. She let out a short cry and tried to back away from his grip. He held on until she finally said, "Yes, colonel." Then he finally let go. She dropped her shoulder to get away from his grip and backed up, but she refused to rub what had to be one hell of a sore spot.

"Good." Kolya's smile returned, but there was no warmth in it. "Dr. Beckett, get it to the infirmary, make sure it's comfortable when it awakes. Dr. Chaya, make sure you're there when it does." He started to walk away, but suddenly stopped and turned to point at Chaya. "And Tatiana – play nice. You two, stay with her and make sure she does," he said to the two guards. He turned and headed for the door, his step actually jaunty.

Carson stood there, his mouth partially open. His expression flitted between shock and disgust before he finally looked at Ronon. "He's insane," he said. "If Elizabeth were here right now she would …." His words trailed off as he caught Chaya watching him, her mouth crooked into an amused smile.

"What _would_ she do, Doctor?" she said. "Oh, that's right – apparently nothing, since she's already approved these experiments."

Carson ran a hand up over his short hair and settled it on his neck before he muttered, "Like bloidy hell she has," he said quietly through his teeth.

Chaya sneered at him, then quickly set her face into a neutral smile and tugged her jacket straight. "I will meet you in the infirmary," she said and calmly turned and walked off, her two shadows close behind.

Despite the rain now picking up, they waited until she was inside. "Lads, could you help me?" Carson said and gestured wearily toward the gurney and Sheppard's still form.

"Gladly, doc," Lorne replied and took up a spot on one side and raised its rail. He glanced over his shoulder. "Sergeant, please take care of the equipment."

"Yes, sir," Stackhouse replied and offered a quick salute.

Ronon pulled a knife and cut the cords binding Sheppard's arms and legs. That earned him a grateful nod from the doctor. Then he helped Beckett reposition him onto his back before he took up a spot at the foot of the gurney, and the three men pushed it away in silence.

_End Note: Hee. Did I not say parts of this would be taking a left turn at Albuquerque? Bwa ha ha ha ha!_


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Thank you for the comments - I'm glad people are having fun with this!! 'Cuz I'm having a blast writing it!! Now, onto the next installment..._

Chapter 4

John immediately knew he was in a hospital when he started to wake up – that was another smell that was hard to forget. He was lying on his back on something relatively soft, and he kept his eyes shut as he took stock of the various aches and pains he could feel. His left forearm was burning and he could feel a knot between his shoulders that ached like a sonuvabitch. He also had sore spots on his lower back and right butt cheek that felt like deep bruises, and for some reason his scalp even hurt.

Then his stomach knotted painfully. He groaned, his hands went to his gut, and he curled up on his side as sweat broke out all over. He didn't know how long it lasted, but when the wave ended he was panting and his throat felt tight. John cracked open his eyes and could see a pair of legs in khaki right at nose level. He lifted his head and his breath caught momentarily. _Oh, great,_ he thought. Here he was, gazing up at probably one of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen in his life, and he was about to …. "Garbage …," he said thickly, then couldn't say any more because he had to swallow, hard, a few times before he could continue. He closed his eyes briefly so he missed the woman's sudden frown of utter disgust. "…Can. Now," he finished and waved weakly at the one he could see on the floor just to her right. When she _still_ just stood there and stared at him with that offended frown he thought _oh fuck_ as another cramp wracked his gut and he projectile vomited right on her.

_Now she decides to move,_ he thought as she backed up quickly and he hung his head over the side of the bed. Then another pair of khaki covered legs darted into view, someone grabbed the garbage can, and held it under him. As John brought up another wave of stomach acid and bile he heard a very amused male voice say, "Och, that's gonna stain." Then a soft chuckle.

Chaya held her hands up and stared down in horror at the splatters that covered her from mid-stomach to damn near her knees. She was making odd little strangled sounds in the back of her throat, until Keller stepped up and calmly offered her a box of tissues.

"You should have handed him the garbage can," Keller said with a shrug. "Just sayin'."

Chaya shrieked in pure outrage.

John flinched on top of his dry heaves.

Chaya whirled and stomped off. The two guards Kolya assigned to keep an eye on her glanced between themselves and started to follow. Chaya stopped and spun on them, and the expression on her face stopped the two soldiers dead in their tracks. "Don't follow _me_, you idiots," she hissed. She pointed at Sheppard. "Stay and keep an eye on _it_."

The expressions on _their_ faces were beyond relieved when she turned and stormed out of the infirmary. They moved back to their original spots near the foot of Sheppard's bed, close but not _too_ close, their P90's dangling but still in a ready grip.

Carson put a hand on John's back and glanced at Keller. His dimples were in their full glory as he chuckled at the younger doctor. "Jennifer, lass – could you fetch me ten ml of Compazine?"

She flashed her own dimples as she sat the box of tissues on the neighboring vacant bed. "Right away," she replied.

Carson looked down and saw the man's heaving was slowing up. "Oh, and a bottle of water and a washcloth." He could hear her moving off, and a moment later John flopped back on the bed and put a hand over his eyes. "Are yae done, lad?" he asked.

"I think so," John replied between pants, his voice rough. Then he dropped his hand down to his mouth. "Uh, nope." Then he was hanging over the edge again and the smell of what little he'd already left in the garbage brought on another bout of dry heaves. As he felt a warm hand settle on his back again, he was certain his colon was trying to come out of his nose. He decided right then that whatever god created dry heaving was one malicious, _vindictive_ son of a bitch. This wave died a lot faster than the other, but it was still too long in his opinion, and he fell back against the pillow again and held a shaky hand back to his forehead. He had a killer headache and was shivering but drenched in sweat, and he swore he could feel his pulse under his fingers as he squeezed his temples. "Where am I?" he croaked out. He barely recognized his own voice, and the smell of his breath was just … god awful. He put his hand over his mouth.

"You're in the infirmary," Carson replied as he sat the garbage can down out of the way. "I wouldn't be surprised if you're having a reaction to …." His word's died when he saw John's eyes snap open, dilate, and he tensed all over.

When he heard _infirmary_ instead of _hospital_ everything came back to John in a flash. Then he saw the two armed guards at the foot of the bed and before he even thought about it he launched from the bed, away from the doctor. There was another bed blocking his way, the guards brought their guns up, and when he heard the double clack of rounds being chambered he backed up and slammed against the wall. The sudden rush of adrenaline was making everything seem way too bright, and he partially crouched, palms flat to the wall and legs tensed and ready to push off at the first opportunity.

Carson could only stand there for a moment with his mouth open – he couldn't believe how _fast_ the man had moved. Now there were guns raised in his infirmary, and he'd have absolutely _none_ of that foolishness. He raised his hands towards the guards and said as calmly as possible, "Now, now, gentlemen. No need for that."

John's eyes flicked briefly towards the doctor as the man moved, and his brain finally started taking in details. The two guards were dressed in the same style tactical vests as the men who showed up at his cabin, but the clothes underneath were a dark blue-gray. They had side arms as well as the short machine guns that were currently pointing at him. The doctor was in a uniform, also – khaki pants and a jacket with two yellow triangular panels in the front, and a pale blue shirt underneath. There was a Scottish flag patch on his right arm – made sense considering the brogue, and a round patch on the other sleeve he couldn't quite identify. Then he saw a woman enter the room. She was young, dressed similar to the doctor, and was carrying a bottle of water wrapped in a cloth, and a syringe. Her jacket sleeve carried an American flag patch. She looked at the raised guns and actually went another step before they registered and she stopped with a startled yelp. Her eyes went wide as she glanced back at him, and then the doctor. "Where the fuck am I?" he growled through his teeth. He was starting to pant even harder and his legs were starting to shake.

"Please, lad – sit back down. We're not going to hurt you," Carson said reassuringly.

John laughed, and he had to admit – it sounded a little crazy to his own ears. The guards must have thought so, too, because they actually took a step forward. "Sorry, doc – I'm having a really hard time believing that right now," he said, never taking his eyes off of the two men. He was fairly sure that if he went in low he _might_ be able to avoid getting shot. He crouched a little lower and actually braced one foot on the wall.

Carson exploded. "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! Will you two _please_ lower those damn guns!" He didn't raise his voice all that much, but the tone hit like a slap and the guards cringed. "Please?" he repeated tightly as he slowly came around to the foot of the bed, one hand still raised to them. The two men did back up a few steps, but they still kept their weapons trained on John. Carson sighed heavily, then looked John straight in the eye. "What's your name, son?" His tone was softer than before, but still strained and a tiny bit weary.

John blinked at the doctor. _Yeah, right_, he thought. He was starting to feel _really_ cold and the trembling was getting worse.

"My name is Carson, Carson Beckett. And I promise you, you will not be hurt while in _my_ infirmary." And Carson stepped between the guns and John.

"Uh, doc?" one of the men said hesitantly.

When Carson actually shushed the man, John felt the corner of his mouth twitch. _Got balls, that's for sure_, he thought. A moment later the woman even pushed past the armed men. Her face was set, but her eyes were showing a little too much white as she stood next to the doctor. _Heh, she's got balls, too_.

Then another gut cramp hit and he doubled over. And the doctor was right there, heedless of the two guns pointing at his back. John was on his knees a moment later, one hand around his middle, the other braced against the floor, and he was glad that all he left on the floor was drool. But that wave finally passed, and Carson and the woman were helping him back up onto the bed. He noticed there was dirt and even a few pine needles on the pale green sheet covering it, and a quick glance down confirmed that yes, indeed, it was from him. He rolled onto his side, still too sore yet to straighten out completely, and squinted up at them both. "John," he croaked out and grimaced. He looked past them and saw the men still had their weapons ready, but had moved off to the side so they could aim past Carson.

Carson glanced that way as well, and frowned. But when he turned back to John it disappeared. "Well, John, let's see if we can get that nausea under control." He looked at Keller and she handed him the syringe and some alcohol swabs which he sat on the bed. "And this lovely young lass is Dr. Jennifer Keller." He reached past John and pulled a pair of latex gloves from a box on the stand between the beds.

"Hello, John," Keller said as she opened the bottle of water and poured some of it onto the washcloth. She handed it to him with a nice smile.

John took the cloth and wiped his face and mouth. The white came away brown. "Say, aren't you a little young to be a doctor?" he drawled rather weakly as he wiped more dirt away.

She actually blushed a tiny bit and rolled her eyes. "I'm not that young," she replied, her tone pretty much indicating she'd heard that one way too many times all ready.

Carson cleared his throat and got John's attention. He held up the syringe. "I'm afraid you know where this has ta go." He offered an apologetic smile.

John's face fell. "Crap," he muttered.

"We really can't have you tryin' to turn yourself inside out every few minutes. So, if you could lower the britches."

"All right." John sat the cloth on the bed and rolled onto his back long enough to undo his jeans. Then he rolled back onto his side and pulled the waistband of his pants and boxers down far enough to give the doctor a target on his left cheek.

"Perfect!" Carson said and swabbed exposed flesh.

Keller was trying hard not to smile at the grimace on John's face. He noticed, and frowned at her. All it did was make her turn away, a hand over her mouth.

"Ow!" John jumped and glanced back. "Jesus – what size needle are you using back there, doc?" he snapped a bit more sharply than he intended as Carson pulled the thing in question free.

The two guards lifted their weapons at his tone. Carson caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and whirled to face them. "Oh, will you two bloidy idiots just settle? Go … go stand over there." He pointed to the far end of the room, by what looked like the only door.

John reacted to Carson's sudden movement, flinched away, and almost wound up going off the other side of the bed. _Yeah, that would have been dignified_, he thought as he grabbed his slipping pants and did them up again. Then his stomach started to get that cold, dense feeling, and sure enough a minute later he was heaving air into the washcloth and curling up with the force of every spasm. That episode was the shortest yet, but it still left him wiped. He was sprawled on his back, his arm over his eyes a few minutes later. "Please tell me that shit's going to kick in soon," he grated out.

"It should be," Keller said. "Drink some water – it'll be a little easier on you if you actually have something to bring up besides your liver."

John lifted his arm and squinted at her. She looked so serious as she held the bottle out to him that he accepted it with a faint, lopsided smile. He sat up carefully, and almost had the rest of the bottle down before the next wave hit. And as he hugged the garbage can that was now braced between his knees he thought, _Yup, easier, but a whole lot noisier._ But that did turn out to be his last full bout, and except for the shakes and feeling like one of the sides of beef Rocky used as a punching bag, he was actually starting to feel better.

Physically, anyway. Emotionally, he was still pissed as hell.

He stayed quiet while the two doctors checked his vitals and his various scrapes and bruises. The inside of his left forearm was one giant scrape, and still even held small chunks of bark from when he used the Ponderosa as a brake. Keller cleaned that and wrapped it up slick as can be. There was a bad bruise and cut between his shoulder blades just right of his spine from when he used the aforementioned trunk as an impromptu extractor. But Carson patched that up without comment on his methods. He balked at having blood drawn, however, until Carson calmly explained he only needed it to make sure the excessive amount of tranquilizers used on him was breaking down in his system adequately. John was impressed with the way the doctor said 'excessive' – it brought out dimples briefly and the man made it sound like a exotic and very obscene swear word.

Keller tried to coax a few words out of him as they worked, and even when he only answered with as few syllables as possible, it didn't seem to dissuade her. She kept at it until she did weasel his last name out of him. But by then, he couldn't help it – he'd always been good at reading 'vibes' off of people. Hell, it was part of his nature. Between her youthful energy and Carson's calm strength, his guard lowered a little. "Well, John Sheppard, it's a pleasure to meet you," she said and offered him a truly dazzling smile.

"Aye, lad," Carson said. His smile was tired, but no less genuine. "I just wish your introduction to Atlantis hadn't been so … startling."

John frowned faintly and drew his head back a fraction. "Did you say _Atlantis_?"

Carson nodded, and was about to say more when the sound of solid, sure footsteps coming into the infirmary distracted him. He glanced and was in time to see the guards snap to attention and salute Kolya. He turned back, leaned a bit closer to John, and pitched his voice very low. "Remember, John – whatever happens, you have two friends here." Keller's nod of agreement was barely discernable.

John glanced to the man approaching them, then met Carson's eyes. The fury he saw in the previously kind gaze made his guard snap back up to eleven in a heartbeat.

_End Note: Poor John, just can't win..._


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Had a dream last night that I was kayaking with Kolya on a really fast moving, dangerous river, and quite frankly I wasn't sure which one scared the poop out of me more. :) _

Chapter 5

As Kolya approached John could see his uniform was similar in style to the two doctors, only dark blue-gray with black panels and a black shirt underneath. He also carried a side arm – nine millimeter Beretta from the looks of it – and from the insignia on the collar, he also knew he was a full bird colonel. _Oh, great_. Just what he needed – the fucking military. The man stopped at the foot of the bed and smiled. The gesture lit his tanned, pockmarked face, but funny – it didn't seem to reach his dark eyes. "Ah, doctor – good to see our guest is awake." The tone was amicable, but those eyes….

And John noticed he wasn't addressed in the slightest. It was strictly directed at Carson and Keller. Oh, the guy gave him a quick once over, but that was about it.

"Yes, colonel, he is," Carson said irately.

John saw the colonel's eyes narrow, but the smile remained. Then the man finally _looked_ at him, and John got the full affect of his gaze. Every little hair on his body fought for attention, and the vibe he got off the man just screamed snake oil salesman. And pure, unfiltered contempt. But he hid it well, with the slick smile, and John felt a bit of panic settle like a cold rock in the pit of his abused stomach. But he was also quite good with masks, and despite his heart hammering in his chest he set his face into an expression of unimpressed boredom. _That_ made the smile slip a fraction.

"I trust you are being treated well?" Kolya asked, his tone still light.

John frowned faintly, raised his eyebrows, and nodded. "The doctors have been wonderful – no complaints there – but I do have a serious issue with the rude assholes that _tranked and_ _kidnapped me_." The last four words came out forceful enough the cords on his neck stood out briefly.

Carson and Keller flinched, but Kolya remained cool. The sonuvabitch even _chuckled_. "My apologies – I'm afraid my men carried out their orders a little too enthusiastically."

_Yeah, right_, John thought. He unconsciously did his odd little snort/exhale, and that brought strange looks from the doctors. He noticed the two armed guards were close again, and another man stood in the door way. A casual glance proved it was the kid he head butted, and he did not look friendly at the moment.

"I trust your injuries were minor?"

_Oh, like you really give a fuck. Please …_. John tried really hard not to sneer and just shrugged. "Few bruises, scrapes …."

"Side effects from too much buprenorphine," Carson added off-handedly. "That is what your men used, isn't it? They're lucky they didn't seriously overdose him."

Kolya's head snapped toward him and the smile did disappear, but Carson met his gaze full on.

_Very big balls_, John thought. _And definitely no love between those two._ "Yeah, that," he drawled. "That was so not cool." He kept his tone light, but his eyes were hard when Kolya's attention returned to him. "Couldn't you have, what, knocked on the God damned door? We're not dumb hicks in Montana – we actually do understand common courtesy, you know." Now he felt a wave of anger come off the man, and he realized he may have pressed his luck. But he wasn't about to back off. "So please forgive me for not being all warm and fuzzy after being shot in the back and dragged off my own land." Forcing himself to sit still and pretend to be calm was practically killing him, but he was pretty damn sure any sudden movements would cause the real thing.

"Yes. Well, that was a very unfortunate misunderstanding for all parties involved." Kolya tried another smile, this one apologetic. Again, his eyes totally ruined it. "I will see that the men involved are properly reprimanded."

For some reason that statement brought back the nausea and funny – John didn't believe him at all. He didn't bother offering a _thank you_, and he could tell Kolya was thoroughly expecting one. So he just set his features and waited.

Kolya eventually cleared his throat, anger simmering just behind his eyes, and reluctantly continued. "All unpleasantness aside, I am Acastus Kolya, Director of Security for this establishment. And you are John Sheppard."

It didn't surprise him in the least bit that the guy knew his name. "And this is Atlantis," John said. He got a nod in reply, but no surprise showed that he knew that little bit. "So," he said casually and crossed his arms. "What the fuck is this place and why the hell am I here?" he asked with a faint lift of his chin.

Apparently Kolya disapproved of harsh language because he scowled briefly. "This is a research facility," he said flatly, and watched closely.

John damn near launched himself from the bed again. He barely caught himself, but a second later thought he should have taken a chance of getting shot because Kolya was smiling, and this time it did reach the bastard's eyes. The smug fucker was getting off on his sudden burst of fear. That brought John's anger back and he clamped down hard enough on his lips the he caught a taste of copper as his slightly pronounced canines punctured flesh. "Well, imagine that," he said softly through his teeth. "Let me guess – top secret to boot." When Kolya just nodded once John felt his heart leap again. _Nobody knows I'm here …. I am so screwed_.

Kolya smiled again as if he read John's thoughts.

The term 'reptilian' came to John's mind. "And dare I ask what you research here?" He was amazed he sounded as calm as he did, when inside he was screaming.

"Our scientists are involved in many fields," Kolya answered, his tone quite proud. "Astrophysics, biochemistry, engineering." He paused a moment. "Biology. Genetics." He cocked his head faintly as he studied John for a reaction. "The discoveries the scientists make here every day will benefit and advance humankind in the long run."

He didn't emphasize the word, but John clearly caught the 'human' jab. "Really?" he drawled. "How fascinating." His tone dripped pure acid, and he actually showed his teeth a little with his words. He heard Carson suck in a sharp breath.

The colonel's mask slipped completely and for a moment he looked like he was about to pull his sidearm and shoot John. He made a visible effort to pull himself back together, and the slick smile returned. "It would be wise for you to watch your tongue while you're our guest." He delivered the words like a grandfather giving advice to a grandchild.

John couldn't stop himself. Call is a character flaw. "Guest? So that's what the kids are calling it these days. Here I thought _prisoner_ …." Yup, didn't get to finish the sentence he had in mind before Kolya backhanded him. Didn't surprise him. What did surprise him was the faint chuckle he gave as he wiped blood from where a canine cut his lip. "Thought so," he muttered as he studied the splash of red on the back of his hand. He also didn't realize he had such a strong death wish. Then he sobered when he suddenly came to the understanding he really didn't have _anything_ to lose right now.

Carson started to speak, but a glare from Kolya cut him off. "Have you completed its physical?" he snapped.

And with that one little word that he let slip, John was more sure of his position here than anything else he'd heard up to this point. _Now_ he wished he could puke.

Carson clamped his lips down tight and the force of the breaths he took in through his nose practically made whistling sounds. Keller stepped up and glanced worriedly at Carson. "We don't have his height and weight yet, and we do need to check his blood pressure again," she said, the tremble in her voice just discernable. "We'll be done shortly."

Kolya nodded succinctly. He only gave John a cursory glance when he said, "When you are through, Lt. Ford will show you to your quarters." His eyes were fixed on Carson's as his smile returned. "I am looking forward to your stay with us." Then he turned and left. He did pause briefly to speak with Ford before he disappeared.

Carson let out his breath in an explosive burst. "Ah, crap," he muttered and rubbed his forehead. Keller gave his arm a gentle squeeze, and when they both looked at John a moment later they were miserable.

John swallowed. "It's going to be that bad, huh?" he whispered.

"I am so, so sorry, son," Carson said. He could see Ford approaching and cleared his throat. "Right, then – let's get you finished up so yae can go grab a shower." He did an excellent job at sounding normal when it looked like all he wanted to do was crawl into a deep dark hole and never come out again.

John gave the man a small smile. "That would be great," he said. Then as an afterthought, "Thank you. Both of you." He smiled at Keller, but had to drop his eyes because she looked to be on the verge of tears.

Carson gave his shoulder a squeeze.

Twenty minutes later John left the infirmary, Ford and the two guards right on his heels. Before he ducked through the door, he glanced over his shoulder and saw the two doctors watching him, their expressions both on the verge of despair. He swallowed and gave them a lopsided smile, a quick lift of his chin, and a wave before the doorjamb blocked his view.

-oOo-

Carson nodded back but the man was gone before he could see it. He sighed heavily, wearily. "Poor brave bugger," he muttered. He suddenly had to sit, and he barely found the edge of the bed. He rested his elbows on his knees and leaned forward as the world got very bright and loud. He concentrated on his breathing, and a moment later he could feel Keller's small warm hand rubbing circles on his back. "I cannae do this anymore, Jenn," he said as he shook his head. "I just bloidy _can't_." His voice cracked.

"I know," Keller said miserably as she sat next to him, her hand never leaving his back.

Carson sat up and swiped angrily at his face with the sleeve of his jacket. "It was bad enough when they wound up as numbered … specimens ready for an autopsy. But now …." His shoulders slumped. "He needs to be stopped. Him and that, that …."

"Bitch," Keller supplied. "But you can't just go challenging him, Carson. He'll have absolutely no qualms about putting a bullet in your head." Then she suddenly glanced at the security camera in the corner of the room and lowered her voice. "You need to be careful."

"Aye, I do. But he eggs me on until he makes my blood boil and I cannae even _think_ straight." He sighed. "We need tae get to Elizabeth somehow. Get her free …." He glanced at the camera. "But how?"

"I don't know," Keller said and put her hands in her lap. "I really don't."

Silence filled the infirmary for several minutes. Then Carson snorted. "Ah, crap. He seems like a decent enough lad."

"Yeah, he did," Keller said. Then she let out a short laugh, then covered her mouth in embarrassment. "Is it bad for me to be glad he puked all over Dr. Chaya?"

"Not at all," Carson replied. "Not at all. Sometimes there is justice in the universe."

_End Note: I know, I know - the chapters are too short. But the natural breaks were coming _early_... But I am posting a chapter a day, doesn't that count?_


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: I'm so glad y'all are enjoying this. Poor John ... _

Chapter 6

John was herded through another section of the infirmary before exiting into a short, curved corridor. The few people he saw only gave them quick, furtive glances, then went back to their work. For some reason, that worried him. Once they were in the hall, he turned his head and studied the young lieutenant as he paced him to the right and one step behind. The kid had a strip of tape across his nose and two impressive black eyes. "Hey, uh, sorry about the nose," he said and offered an apologetic smile. "I really thought you were trying to kill me at the time. No hard feelings, huh?" Hell, he could play civilized even if these jokers couldn't.

The muscles along Ford's jaw bunched and he only cursorily glanced at John. Then after several steps in silence he finally said, "You move fast for an old man."

"Hey!" John said. But he let it drop since it was obvious that was about all the forgiveness he was going to get from the kid. And besides, forty was not old. Hell, in his family, he was still pretty much in his late teens, if he really wanted to argue about it. He sighed. "Yeah, well, I keep in shape."

One of the guards snorted, but that was the only reaction he got from the crew.

The hall straightened out and ran for a long distance. The walls were painted in mottled blue-green and had odd ornamentation done in coppers and earth tones. There were even odd columns filled with bubbling water interspaced here and there between potted plants, and the affect was actually kind of nice. The doors were all offset with trapezoidal cut-outs at the top and fitted with stained glass, and the whole set up made him think it was designed by Frank Lloyd Wright after a hit of acid. John paid very close attention to the numbers of cross corridors and doors they passed, then not even a quarter of the way down the hall they turned right into another corridor. It led into an open atrium and was apparently the center of the complex. Potted plants lined the walls, a bank of three elevators were to his left, and straight ahead he could see what must be the mess through a set of rapidly closing doors. The person who came out was dressed in the khaki BDU's, but the panels in his jacket were sky blue. He had glasses, a high hairline, and hair that seemed on the verge of flying everywhere at the slightest provocation. The guy was also staring at him in surprise, and John didn't get a chance to see what flag was on his sleeve when he was distracted by the smell of food that followed him. He closed his eyes and inhaled, and he didn't think it was possible his abused stomach would growl, but it did. And breakfast _was_ an awful long time ago …. "Say, I don't suppose we could make a detour?" he asked his herders as he gestured towards the doors.

Ford grunted and directed him towards the elevators. "No."

"C'mon, not even for a sandwich? Duck in, duck out, that's all I'm asking."

Ford ignored him as he jabbed the call button for the elevator. "I'm to take you directly to your room. Orders."

"I'm starving here, Lieutenant. A starving _guest, _I might add." The kid remained impassive, and John sighed. Then he noticed the short guy had stopped and was standing there, still watching him. He nodded at him, the guy nodded back, dug in his pocket, and pulled out a Powerbar. He tossed it to John. John caught it as the elevator opened. "Thanks," he said.

The guy waved a hand casually and continued on his way.

As John stepped into the elevator he tore open the bar and shoved half of it in his mouth before it could get confiscated. "So, am I going to get dinner at least?" he asked around the mouthful. It was rude, but he was _hungry _damnit.

"Eighteen-hundred hours," Ford replied as he took up a position next to him. The two guards backed into the corners opposite John.

"Black tie or casual?" John asked, shoved the rest of the chocolate Powerbar into his mouth, and checked his watch – two and a half hours. He could make it that long. Piece of cake. Then he grimaced as he thought about _cake_. Ford sighed and his jaw bunched again. Okay, his attempt at lightening things for the sake of his own sanity wasn't working and he gave up. "Escorted, I presume," he said after he chewed and swallowed.

"Of course," Ford replied.

John sighed, crumpled up the foil wrapper, and shoved it in his pocket. They rode up four floors in silence, and he noted there were buttons for three more above that and four more below the mess level before the door opened again and he was herded out. They went to the right down another curving corridor until they finally stopped at room four-oh-three. Ford swiped his hand down a lighted panel and it slid open silently. John barely kept himself from saying _cool_ and cautiously stepped into the room. A quick glance around and his first impression was Holiday Inn, and when he turned to say _see ya later_ the door was already closed. And he had absolutely no doubt it was locked and the two guards were now posted on the other side.

But he still had to try.

John swiped his hand down the door control a few times and really wasn't too surprised when nothing happened. Then he tried to get his fingernails in the seam where the two halves met and pry the thing open. All he succeeded in doing was break the nail on his middle left finger down to the quick. He backed up and bellowed in frustration at the door, and even kicked it a few times.

_Okay, that was really mature_, _John_, he thought as he ran his hands through his hair and tried to calm down. He aimed one last kick at it and left a smudge of dirt on the copper panels. Didn't help the situation, but damn it made him feel a whole hell of a lot better. No doubt the clowns on the other side were getting a good laugh at his antics. He finally faced the room and the first things he headed for were the heavy curtains on the wall opposite the door. He grabbed them and flung them open.

"Oh, fuck me," he groaned. Past his filthy, gaping reflection, and out past the tops of pine trees was nothing but overcast sky and the choppy gray surface of the ocean.

With his hands still curled in the curtains, he slumped forward. His forehead met the glass and it gave a deep, melodious _bong_. He could see that the glass was easily four inches thick from where it was seated in a wall that was at least two feet thick itself. About three stories down was a roof, and beyond that exposed stone and the edge of the forest.

John put a hand flat against the cool glass. He wasn't even going to try to put a chair through it – he was pretty sure that would be nothing but a lesson in futility. He stared at the sea until the bleak sight threatened to turn the lump he felt in his throat into something other than mild nausea, then he turned his back to the window and plunked his ass down on the wide window ledge. He leaned forward, braced his hands on his knees, and took in the room numbly.

The wall with the window was faintly curved, but the rest of the room was angular. To his left was what had to be a queen sized bed with a heavy comforter that was several shades darker than the blue-green walls but lighter than the industrial carpet. The bed was bracketed by two lamps on bed stands, and thank God there was just blank wall and not some tacky framed farm scene above the headboard. He would really have no choice but to scream, then.

To the right, and in the corner, was a big desk and built in shelves. He could see computer ports in the wall, and the office chair looked brand new. Mounted on the wall directly opposite of the bed was a flat television that had to be three feet across. To the left and right of the doors were short dressers, and a big padded chair and ottoman and more shelves filled the corner that shared the wall with the television. A short hallway went past the bed, and John got up to go see what had to be the bathroom. There was a small linen closet on one side of the hall, a clothes closet on the other, and when the door slid open he saw it had stuff hanging in it.

He pulled out the dark blue-gray jacket and looked at it. The panels in its front were dark red, and there were two of them hanging there. There were also four pairs of pants, and when he checked the tags he saw they were his size. Gee, imagine that. On the floor were two pair of military issue boots. He returned the jacket and closed the door. Then out of curiosity he had to go check the dressers. Only one had anything in it, and only partially filled three drawers at the most. One held socks, the other underwear (boxers and again his size), and the third a half dozen black t-shirts and just as many long sleeved lightweight fleece shirts. And they were all folded in a neat, orderly, slightly OCD military fashion.

John started to come out of his numbness and decided to _really_ search the room. All of the heavy furniture was bolted down, as well as the television and lamps, and the bed sat on a solid pedestal. And it only took him five minutes at the most to find the security cameras. The first was in the air vent above the sweet tv, the other in the corner by the hallway. "They better have not bugged the bathroom," he muttered as he stomped in and hit the lights.

And froze.

"Oh, man," he said, and it was practically a moan. The room was probably as big as his kitchen and was all stone tile and chrome and pale wood. The long granite counter top had two sinks and a solid wall of mirrors above it. Behind the door was a shower stall the size of _his_ bathroom, and next to that a separate tub. It wasn't very long, but it was deep, and when he stepped up to it and looked down he almost whimpered – the thing had _jets, _for Christ's sake, and he was pretty sure his knees wouldn't stick out of the water when it was full. The toilet sat behind a little privacy wall, and across from it was a cupboard stocked with towels that were definitely not like the ones he remembered having in the Air Force.

"Jeez, these research guys like their bathrooms," he muttered and felt a little pang of jealousy. But that disappeared a second later when he remembered how he came to be here, at Atlantis, at a frickin' _top secret_ research facility. He quickly searched the drawers and cupboards under the sinks and found everything he'd need. Shit, there was even a box of condoms. That was obviously a gross oversight on somebody's part, and he smiled ruefully. Because he knew he was basically in a prison.

But boy howdy was it a fully stocked and posh one.

When he stood back up he regarded his scruffy reflection. He hadn't shaved in three days, his clothes were stiff from dirt and sweat, and his eyes were a bit on the wild side. Then something else caught his eye, and a moment later he up on the counter on his knees. Sure enough, there was a tiny camera in one of the light fixtures. He leaned over and opened one of the drawers, fished out a box of band-aids, pulled one of the little round ones out, and slapped it over the lens. He checked all the other lights thoroughly, then every other square inch of the bathroom. That was the only one.

Now that he had a little bit of privacy, John stripped and decided to take full advantage of the amenities. Hell, might as well, because deep down he was pretty sure it wasn't going to last. He just left his dirty clothes in a pile in the corner.

The shower turned out to be one of those things with the multi-level shower heads that had potential for a lot of, well, _personal_ time, and as far as he could tell an endless supply of hot water. The shampoo and soap in their fancy little dispensers were definitely not off the shelf stuff. The bandage on his arm pretty much fell off by the time he had to call it quits or fall asleep on the floor and risk drowning like a turkey in a downpour. The scrape wasn't really that bad – looked worse than it was – so he decided to leave it open to the air. It would be scabbed up soon enough anyway. And screw shaving. He wasn't going to go through that much effort for these assholes.

Though that Doc Keller was kinda cute ….

He was heading back into the main room to grab some clean underwear and scrubbing his hair with a towel when he caught a new scent. He quickly lowered the towel and saw the woman he puked on sitting in the overstuffed chair, and from her position she pretty much had an unimpeded view of _everything_. "You people have a hard time with the concept of _knocking_, don't you?" he said angrily as he just loosely held the towel in front of him. "Here, let me demonstrate." He rapped on the wall a few times. "See, not so hard. You do it on _doors_. Then you wait for the person on the other side to say 'come in'. Simple, isn't it?"

The woman smiled at him. Whereas Kolya's was reptilian, this woman's slow smile was _predatory_. And he knew predatory when he saw it. He had planned on apologizing for hurling on her, but that little action made him think otherwise, and his empty stomach knotted.

"You are amusing, Forty-seven," she said and uncurled from the chair.

_What the fuck?_ "John. My name is John Sheppard," he said as he watched her stand. She wasn't tall, but she had long graceful legs that he noticed right away. Under different circumstances he'd be appreciating them, too, but the vibes he was getting off of her killed any thoughts in that direction. He was too busy puking his guts out before to notice she was totally bugfuck _insane_. "What's with the forty-seven crap?" he asked and forced himself to not retreat as she sauntered up to him.

"That is the lab number I've assigned you," she said as she stopped not three feet from him and gave him an appraising once over. Apparently she liked what she saw because her smile grew more pronounced. But then it disappeared, only to be replaced by an openmouthed look of bogus surprise. "Oh, you're modest!"

The color rising along John's neck and ears was far from embarrassment. It was because he was outraged. "My, my _lab number?_" he croaked out, his voice rising a little at the end. _Oh, this is so not good,_ he thought. He wondered how much longer he'd live if he just reached out and snapped her neck right now. Not very long, he guessed, but it might be worth it if this crazy bitch had anything to do with why he was here.

His thoughts must have been registering on his face because she took a couple steps back and pouted. "I've upset you."

John found her pout about as real as her …. No, wait, those did look real. Okay, about as real as Kolya's earlier concern for his well being.

"Modest and sensitive. How interesting. I am going to enjoy studying you, Forty-seven."

_Now, snap her fucking neck NOW!_ His brain screamed at him to do it, but his body was just locked in place by pure disgust and a shitload of fear. Then she was going out the door, the opportunity was lost, and sure enough he could see two guards out there before it closed.

John sat down on the edge of the dresser by his left hip and shook. He felt like he needed another shower, and he knew one thing for sure as he ran a hand down his face.

He really needed to escape.

_End Note: (Heavy sigh as author contemplates her own, miniscule 12x8 foot bathroom.) Damn, I want that bathroom... John as my towel boy would be nice, too. :)_


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: This chapter contains my second favorite scene in the whole story... John, meet Ronon. Ronon, meet John. :)_

Chapter 7

Dr. Rodney McKay was _the_ top scientist at Atlantis. He held several doctorates, all earned at a surprisingly early age thanks to being a, well, genius, and was the de facto head of scientists at the Project. He was the director of special projects at Area 51 before this posting, and at first he had trepidations about signing on to something with such a pretentious name. But then he saw the facility, and the equipment, and the _funding_, and thought he'd died and gone to geek heaven. He'd already made advances in his work here in astrophysics in the past four years that would have taken nearly a decade with what he had back at Area 51. And the accommodations and food were incredible! So much better than that government funded death trap in Nevada, and it was a good thing he tended to get so wrapped up in his work that he would forget meals, or else he'd be pulling a Marlon Brando thing and have to wear muumuus to the lab. Geek heaven, no – it was more like an all inclusive geek resort. _With_ pay.

Unfortunately Rodney also had an ego to go along with his brilliance and was more than willing to tell you at any time of day how brilliant he truly was. He could have great rambling discourses on that subject if given the chance, but most of the scientists he worked with had long ago learned not to provoke those diatribes. Emergencies usually seemed to conveniently crop up and they'd have to simply excuse themselves. Or Rodney would have to go put out the fires, so to speak. Then he'd go on great rambling bitch fits about the utter incompetence of those under him. They'd take that with a grain of salt, too, and roll their eyes (but not in his line of sight, of course). Radek Zelenka, a Czech engineer and who some thought equally as brilliant, was one of the few to openly mock him and get away with it. And Elizabeth Weir was the only one who could tell him to shut up, albeit politely, and he would.

Rodney was socially inept, and loud, and incredibly blunt, but he wasn't reviled. Well, except by maybe one person, but that person had been pretty much reviled by everyone else on Atlantis, too. He was generally looked at with awe, mixed with a tiny bit of fear, but he truly was an indispensable part of the Project. He was also so absorbed in his own research he'd missed a lot of what had been going on the past few months. But he was catching up. He'd started to get worried about Carson – he'd never seen his friend so close to being at wit's end as he was right now. And Elizabeth …. He hadn't _physically_ seen her in almost five weeks now. He'd spoken to her a few times over the internal com network, and received a few e-mails about projects, but that was about it. She had become a ghost, and everyone knew Kolya had something to do with it. But that guy was seriously scary, scarier than Rodney on a sleep-deprived caffeine induced rant, and so far nobody had confronted him about the weird crap that was going on. Rodney wasn't about to – the thought alone gave him hives. He hated confrontation as much as he hated citrus.

Then there was the thing Kolya was keeping in the basement. Rodney tried not to think about that too much. He dreamed about it enough after his close call, thank you very much.

But Rodney was finally starting to take notice of what was happening under _his_ roof (yes, he considered Atlantis his, and so far no one had been able to dissuade him of that notion), and what he was learning was starting to piss him off. At the moment he was sitting in the cafeteria and getting an update from Keller instead of Carson about the latest 'specimen' to be brought to Atlantis. He sat leaning slightly forward, his knife and fork gripped but forgotten in his hands, which in turn were resting on the table and bracketing his tray almost protectively. His eyes were fever bright, and his mouth was partly open in a crooked but delighted grimace. "Oh, no," he said, his voice slightly strained. "He, he didn't."

"Yup," Keller said. She was leaning back in her chair, her own half eaten meal before her. She had her arms crossed, but she lifted her right hand, made a blade of it, and after touching her index finger briefly to her bottom lip made a sharp, quick gesture away from her mouth. "Projectile. Right down the front of her."

Rodney let out a gleeful giggle. He may be the most brilliant man on the planet, but he wasn't above juvenile humor sometimes. "Oh, man, couldn't have happened to a better person."

Actually, there were two reviled people on Atlantis – Chaya was the second.

"That's exactly what I thought," Keller said and grinned.

"What did Carson do?" Rodney asked as he dug into his meatloaf and mashed potatoes with Guinness gravy. He popped in a bite and chewed happily.

"He said, 'Och, that's gonna stain'." Keller lowered her voice and actually got the accent down surprisingly well. "I offered her a box of Kleenex."

Rodney giggled again. "I'm going to have to get into the security server later and download a copy."

"Knowing the Major, he's already done that and burned copies for sale," Keller said. She picked up her water and took a sip.

"I'll ask him when he shows up for dinner." Rodney glanced around the cafeteria briefly. "Huh, he's late." Then his expression got serious and he lowered his voice. "So, what was the new, uh, acquirement?"

Keller sat up and scooted her chair in closer to the table. She pushed her tray out of the way and rested her forearms on top of the wood surface. "It was a guy this time, tall, dark hair, not bad." Rodney frowned and made a get-on-with-it gesture with his fork, but she ignored it. "He broke Lt. Ford's nose, and I guess it took three darts to take him down."

Rodney almost choked. "Holy crap!" he said between wheezes and reached for his water. After a few drinks his color returned to normal. "Do you know what he is yet?"

"No – blood sample is still analyzing, and he sure wasn't saying." Keller lowered her voice. "Carson is going to copy the data before he has to hand it over to …."

"Dr. Dominatrix," Rodney interrupted. "Good, good. Let him know I'd like to see it, too."

Keller nodded. "And another thing – the guy got Kolya so riled he slipped up and hit him."

Rodney's eyebrows rose. He hadn't been able to do that, yet, not that he really wanted to _try_ …. "Really, now? Huh, I may just have to meet this guy."

"His name is John Sheppard."

Rodney grunted and scooped up some more meatloaf. Dang, Carson was missing one of his favorites. Speaking of which …. "How is Carson doing?" he asked worriedly.

"I can tell he isn't sleeping, and it's a battle to get him to eat anything," Keller said and lowered her gaze. She picked up a piece of lettuce from her salad, looked at it, and dropped it back onto her tray. "He's getting pretty 'cheeky' with Kolya, too, and it's starting to scare me. One of these days he's going to do something stupid and Kolya's just going to …." She put an index finger to her temple and made a sound like a kid imitating a gun.

Rodney flinched. Then they both glanced around. Nobody seemed to notice. "Crap," Rodney muttered. "I'll go see him tonight, distract him. See if he knows of any good sheep ranches nearby where he can work out some of his frustration."

Keller frowned. "He'd like that, but please – no sheep cracks. Not right now. He's liable to snap and catheterize you right there with a garden hose, the mood he's been in."

"Oh, hadn't thought of that," Rodney said, a horrified grimace on his face. Then they were both distracted by a very loud thump on the cafeteria doors. "What the hell was that?" Rodney said and they both glanced that way, along with everyone else in the room.

-oOo-

John was sprawled on the bed, his feet sticking over the edge, a pillow pulled down and tucked under his head, and was surfing channels on the plasma screen. Looked like the place had satellite feed, dang near five hundred channels, and absolutely nothing to watch. No obviously local channels so he couldn't tell where the place may be, lots of movie channels, and very little sports.

And about six porn channels. Apparently these science guys liked their porn as much as they liked their bathrooms.

He was wearing the BDU's they provided him – he liked the long sleeved shirt especially – but he refused to wear the boots. He preferred his scruffy, dirty, _comfortable_ hiking boots, thank you very much. The pants rode a little lower than he liked, and he almost wished he had a belt for them. But they fit. Couldn't complain too much; at least he wasn't in an orange jumpsuit. Or a hospital smock.

He'd just found a cool channel dedicated to aircraft and flying when the door opened. He glanced at the guards as they came in, then glanced at his watch. Hallelujah – dinner time. He turned off the television, sat up, and scooted down to the end. He bounced to his feet and gave the two armed men a cheerful smile. "So, guys – what's for dinner?"

The guards, different from the ones before, glanced between each other as if unsure if they should be speaking to him or not.

"Oh, c'mon, guys – lighten up, or its going to be a long night," John said. "I'm not going to bite you or anything." Then he paused a moment as his stomach gurgled. "But if we don't get down to the mess soon, all bets are off." They actually seemed quite alarmed at that and they raised their P90's a little. John instantly raised his hands and took an involuntary step back. "Hey, hey, just kidding. Really. Only a joke." They motioned him towards the door, their matching frowns clearly stating they didn't appreciate it. He complied, and as he stepped out into the hall they immediately flanked him. They didn't meet anyone in the hall.

They were almost to the elevators when one said, "I think it's meatloaf tonight."

John glanced at him. "Cool. I like meatloaf." And that was the extent of the conversation until the doors opened onto the atrium. He could hear voices just before he stepped out of the elevator, and when he saw who was speaking his brain just kind of short circuited. Later he'd blame the stress of the day for his total stupidity, but for now his attention completely focused on one thing and the blood roared in his ears. It was the big guy who caught him in the forest, and he even kind of remembered seeing him looming over him in what had to have been a helicopter afterwards. He was completely in black and was talking to a shorter man, definitely military and wearing the dark Atlantis BDU, and they were heading for the mess. Before the guards could even react, John shot across the twenty feet or so that separated him from the guy. Dreds even had a second to turn his head and look his way before John tackled him and they both landed hard and went sliding across the polished stone floor.

John wound up straddling the guy, and managed to get two really solid punches in before Dreds just _heaved_ his entire body off the ground and flipped him off like he didn't weigh a thing. John rolled to his feet just as Dreds flipped to his, and he was aiming another right cross when the guy caught his fist, made a casual gliding shuffle to the side, and flipped him into the mess hall doors. John managed to turn just enough so he wouldn't smash his face against the copper panels, and his shoulder and upper back bounced hard off them. He was turning to go after him again when what he guessed was a size thirteen boot caught him in the stomach. The air whooshed out of him in a very undignified sound and he fell to his hands and knees, then a second later he just toppled over onto his side, curled up, and tried to remember how to breathe.

Lorne was between John and the two armed guards, who had their weapons raised and hot. The whole incident didn't even last ten seconds, and they were all a completely caught off guard. "Hey, hey, hey! Stand down!" Lorne yelled, one hand raised to the men, and glanced down quickly at John. "He's not going anywhere." Then he looked at Ronon – his nose was bleeding and it looked like his lip might be split. And he was grinning. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," Ronon rumbled and spat blood on the floor. He wiped his mouth with the back of a hand, and actually seemed amused as he stared at the blood.

Lorne grunted and moved around so John could see him. He went to one knee and scowled down at the gasping man. "What the hell are you trying to do?! Get yourself killed?"

John squinted up at the man and noticed the gold oak leaves on the collar of his jacket. "Maybe, Major," he croaked out and sucked in another ragged breath. Then he watched the major's face change instantly from thin-lipped fury to something that was a cross between understanding and possibly guilt. "Wasn't … thinking."

"Obviously," Lorne grunted. He seriously doubted that statement, because it sure looked calculated to him. He glanced around and saw a bit of a crowd gathering. He waved at them to move along, then returned his attention to John. "Can you get up yet?"

"Gimme … sec," John replied. His lungs were only now just getting a rhythm back, albeit a stuttering one, and his stomach was still one giant knot. He didn't get a chance to recover any more when he found himself being hauled to his feet by Dreds.

"Shake it off – it wasn't that hard of a kick," Ronon said and grinned.

John stayed doubled over, his hands on his knees, and he tilted his head enough to see Dreds out of the corner of an eye. "You didn't spend … an hour earlier today … heaving your guts out," he said and put a hand to his stomach. "Shake it off, my ass." Then, despite all its past abuses, his stomach growled and he groaned.

Lorne looked at the guards. "He'll be sitting with us. Stay close, but not too close."

"Understood, sir," one of the men said.

John straightened up as much as he could, hand still on stomach, and glared at Ronon. He so wanted to pound that fucking smirk right off his face. "I remember you," he growled out.

"Figured you did," Ronon replied and rubbed his jaw. "'Cuz that sure wasn't a love tap."

John couldn't stop the little exhale/snort from escaping, and this time it made a very definite _chuff_ sound when he did. It drew an odd look all around and he suddenly felt self consciousness finally start to overpower the brain clouding anger. He lowered his gaze, and a moment later Ronon's huge hand was right there.

"Hey, we were following orders. No hard feelings, huh?"

_Jeez, that sounded familiar_, John thought and looked back up. All he was picking up from him was genuine sincerity and not one hint of anger. If he couldn't have sensed that, he'd have been very alarmed by the big, bloody smile on the guy's face. When he didn't take the hand right away the guy said, "Ronon Dex. And you're only the second person to knock me on my ass since I got here."

Then John reluctantly took his hand. "John Sheppard, and I can believe that." As they shook, he said, "Do I want to know who the first one was?"

"No."

John caught a flash of embarrassment, but it wasn't something he _saw_. Then he was shaking the major's hand.

"Major Evan Lorne, head of security."

"Really? I thought whatsisname was," John replied cautiously.

"He's been busy, so the job landed on my shoulders. Chain of command, shit rolls downhill, you know," Lorne replied. And for a moment John felt a flash of white hot anger. All that showed on the man's face was a short, tight-lipped frown. "Let's get some chow," he said and jerked his head toward the mess hall doors. He nodded to the two guards and they actually preceded them into the hall.

John tried to see if he'd dented the doors, but they opened before he could tell. Then they stepped into a light, airy room with a vaulted ceiling and the only thought in his mind was a Neanderthal grunt that demanded _food, NOW_.

He had to admit, he was in a bit of a daze as he grabbed a tray and silverware rolled in a napkin, and didn't even notice the knuckles on his right hand were scraped and bloody until one of the servers gave him a horrified look. Then she caught sight of Ronon in line behind him and did a double take. Then she just seemed to, well, accept it, and started dishing up meatloaf and mashed potatoes and gravy. On _plates_. "Did I read that right? Guinness gravy?" John said in awe as someone else loaded green beans on his plate.

"Yup," Lorne replied. "You'll never be able to eat normal gravy ever again."

John stuck a finger in and took a taste. "Oh, my God," he groaned and damn near missed the desserts. As they carried their trays to a table against the side wall – Lorne on his left, Ronon on his right – John glanced to the side and almost stopped dead in his tracks. The back wall was a bank of floor to ceiling windows, and in the distance beyond the trees rose green, heavily timbered mountains. It was overcast, but not raining yet, and he had a rough idea, finally, of where Atlantis might be.

The Pacific Northwest. He wasn't sure exactly where, but the terrain was very recognizable and, he knew, survivable.

He got a brief flash of hope, then he saw the major watching him closely, and he set his face. "Soggy view," he said and lifted his chin towards the windows.

"Yeah," Lorne replied. "It is." He continued watching John as they took their seats – John against the wall, he and Ronon across from him. "Don't be getting any stupid ideas," Lorne said quietly as he unrolled his silverware from the _cloth_ napkin.

John picked up his own silverware and grimaced as he flexed sore knuckles. "From my position, it doesn't seem so stupid," he said very quietly and grinned briefly. Then he was busy shoveling in food and refusing to look at his dinner companions.

Ronon grunted and took a moment to wet his napkin down and wipe the blood from his moustache and goatee. The split in his lip turned out to be pretty minor and had already quit bleeding. "Kolya is going to have more guards on you than flies on shit," he said just as quietly while he hunkered down over his tray. He pointed at John with his fork. "You'll get shot before you even leave your _floor_."

John nodded as he chewed – damn, that was best meatloaf he'd ever had in his _life_. And he stayed quiet until he slicked the last of the gravy up with a slice of bread. "Yeah, well, I've already been assigned a lab number by psycho Barbie. So believe me when I say the prospect of getting shot does not scare me right now." He finally looked up and saw both men had barely touched their meals. He didn't think he'd eaten that fast, until he took in their matching grim expressions and realized they were just picking at their food.

"Christ," Lorne said and dropped his silverware. He rubbed his mouth and only briefly covered the disgusted frown there. He couldn't look at John.

Ronon shifted uncomfortably and silently forked in a few mouthfuls of potatoes. "Sorry, man," he said a moment later, his eyes on his plate.

John's pulse was hammering in his throat and he was on the verge of hyperventilating as he stared at the two men. First the two doctors, now these guys. He leaned forward and hissed out, "If there are people that unhappy with what's going on, then _why the fuck is it continuing?_" The two guards were at the far end of the next table, and they looked up at his tone and tensed.

"Because at the moment Kolya has a lot more supporters among the military presence here than he does opponents," Lorne forcefully whispered back.

"And the scientists aren't necessarily fighters," Ronon added. "A lot of innocent people could get killed."

"And some already have." Lorne's tight-lipped frown seemed permanent now.

"Then help me escape," John barely whispered. When they didn't say anything he glanced back and forth between them. "_Please_." The desperation in his voice was shocking to his own ears and made both men flinch.

Lorne closed his eyes and lowered his head briefly. When he lifted his head again, his gaze was haunted. "You're going to have a few days before anything is done to you. Kolya wants to play nice, make you think everything is fine and dandy. Thinks that will – I don't know – loosen you up. Make you co-operate."

John barely held back a laugh. He had a feeling if he did, it would be an insane cackle.

"Try to bide your time if you can. Play along, don't do anything brash, get the guards to relax around you. And be careful." Lorne picked his silverware back up and shoved food around on his tray. "Be patient, and I'll see what I can do."

If he'd been standing, John was pretty sure his knees would have given out right now. Then he had a panicked thought that made him swallow. He glanced as nonchalantly as possible around the mess. "What about surveillance? My room is wired – how about this place?"

Lorne actually took a bite of the food he'd been playing with and chewed. "The acoustics in this corner suck," he said, his attention on his tray. "And the cameras only catch part of the table – that pillar by the desserts blocks the one camera that actually faces this way."

Ronon glanced at Lorne. "So that's why you like to sit here." He grunted.

"Yup," was all Lorne said.

John picked up his water and took a long drink until his hand quit shaking. He had four people on his side now, and the little ember of hope was growing a tiny bit brighter.

_End Note: Heh, I described John meeting Ronon to someone as, "CHARGE grunt thud sliiiide WHAM WHAM heave swing oops BONG kick OOOF ... thud." :) Next chapter, John finally gets to meet Rodney._


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: John, meet Rodney. And, um, yeah - he's _always_ like that..._

Chapter 8

As John sat his water down he could see two people approaching their table. One was Dr. Keller, the other a pasty guy with a high hairline, stubble, and a crooked mouth set in an irritated grimace. His BDU's were the blue and khaki, the flag on his sleeve Canadian, and it looked like he may have slept in his clothes. The two guards stood as if to intercept, and when Lorne noticed John was looking past him he turned briefly. He nodded to the guards and they resumed their seat. "Hey, docs," Lorne said as they stopped by the end of the table.

"Major," Keller said. Rodney offered a shoulder twitch and a quick wave. She looked at John and smiled sweetly. "Glad to see your appetite is okay."

John nodded and smiled back at her. "Do they allow seconds?" he asked as he glanced between Lorne and Keller.

"If you smile nicely at Doris, she will let you through again," Lorne replied.

"Hey, she doesn't give me seconds," Rodney said. "Even when I smile at her."

"That's because your smile makes her think you're constipated," Ronon rumbled and smirked.

Rodney's crooked mouth fell open and he said, "Does not."

"And the last time they served lemon chicken, you had her in tears," Keller said.

Rodney's finger came up. "Now that is a legitimate concern," he sputtered out. "She knows how allergic I am to citrus. I had to take an antihistamine just from _smelling_ that."

Everyone laughed at him and John felt the mood around the table get very relaxed. He even found himself smiling a little at what were obviously good friends. Rodney continued to look indignant, but John could tell he really wasn't. Well, not too much, anyway. Then he felt something shift, and he glanced up at the doctor. She was frowning down at him.

"What happened to your hand?" she asked. Then she glanced at Ronon and took in the split lip. "What did you do?"

Ronon lifted his hands in surrender and shook his head. "Nothing. Honest."

"Uh huh," Keller replied and didn't sound like she believed him. She held her hand out for John's, and he complied. She noted what looked like tooth marks and shook her head. "I want you to stop by the infirmary after dinner, get that cleaned," she said as she let go of John's hand. "I don't have to remind you how many germs there are in a human mouth, do I?"

John waited for some kind of reaction to the human comment, but nothing was said. "No, doc," he replied and his smile was the easiest one he'd had in awhile.

"Good," Keller replied. She lowered her chin and pointed at Ronon. "You, too – I mean it."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied quickly.

John could feel something pass between them. It was subtle, but it was there. And it made him feel a little sad. These people all had a great rapport, some possibly even more so, and he was just the freak on the outside, eavesdropping. Intruding. His smiled faded completely.

Keller noticed and gave his forearm where it rested on the table a brief squeeze. "John, I'd like you to meet Dr. Rodney McKay, our Head Geek."

Rodney sort of slumped and glowered at Lorne. "Why did you have to go and call me that? Now I'm stuck with it."

"Well, you did call me the Head Goon," Lorne said. "Only fitting."

John chuffed, and there was a brief silence. He immediately held a hand out to Rodney. "Nice to meetcha, McKay." Then an uncomfortable silence fell over the table as Rodney just stared at John's slightly bruised and bloody knuckled hand with something resembling horror.

Lorne broke the silence, his tone light. "The doc doesn't like to shake hands." Then he mouthed the word _germs_. John raised his eyebrows and pulled his hand back slowly.

Rodney squirmed a little. "Yeah. Um, sorry. Do it to everybody." He gave an odd little jaw thrust and a nervous little laugh. "Nice to meet you, too, Sheppard."

For some reason John didn't really feel offended by Rodney's little phobia. He knew a few people like that back in Libby – you could always spot them by the little bottle of hand sanitizer hanging off their keys or purse.

"So, they treating you okay?" Rodney said. And the second it left his mouth his eyes got a little wide and he looked vaguely ill.

Now a _really_ uncomfortable silence fell over the table. "For the moment," John growled. Then he cleared his throat, gestured at his empty plate, and said in a totally different tone, "Say, mind if I go get seconds now?"

"As long as you don't mind Stevenson going up with you," Lorne said.

"Don't have a choice, do I?" John said with a grimace.

Lorne shook his head and offered an apologetic shrug.

John sighed and stood, and one of the guards got up as well. "'Scuze me," he said to Keller, and when he and his escort were a couple tables away he could hear Rodney repeating _stupid_ over and over again. Wasn't his fault. When he got back to the line, he gave Doris his best smile, and damn if she didn't blush a little as she filled another plate for him. He grabbed some coffee before heading back, and when he sat down he could feel the mood around the table had eased up again. John just nodded at everyone and focused on his meatloaf.

"Lorne told us that was you that hit the doors earlier." Keller said a bit incredulously. "Are you okay?"

John squirmed a little. "I'm fine," he said. He had a feeling the bruises in the morning were going to be interesting, and he wondered if he'd be able to see the tread pattern of Ronon's boot on his stomach like some strange tribal tattoo. "Just mildly tenderized." He saw Keller flash Ronon a reproachful frown that made him glad he wasn't on the receiving end. All Ronon did was laugh. While the others snickered at that, he concentrated on the meatloaf and enjoyed it this time. A couple of times he knew he rolled his eyes, but he just couldn't help it. Damn, that and the gravy were awesome.

"Ah, should we be leaving you two alone?" Rodney said. He was smirking, up until John flipped him off in mid chew.

There was a moment of shocked silence, then snickers all around. Apparently no one did that to Rodney's _face_.

-oOo-

It was quite the interesting little parade to the infirmary after dinner – Keller, Rodney, Ronon, John, and of course John's two heavily armed shadows. They got a lot of odd looks, most of them directed at John, but nobody said a word. He could pick up the unease, but stronger than that at the moment was just plain old curiosity. That helped keep his dinner from kicking. He made the mistake of asking Rodney just what he was a doctor of while he ate his dessert, and nearly twenty minutes later, he was _still_ hearing about Rodney's credentials and accomplishments.

"Then I spent five years at Area 51 – yes, you heard right – where I single handedly figured out how to reverse engineer the … um, ah, yeah. I can't talk about that. Top secret." Rodney grimaced, then in the next instant he was snapping his fingers in rapid succession. "Oh, then there's the propulsion system for the … crap! Can't talk about that, either. Dammit. And that is just so totally cool, too." He looked positively crestfallen.

John glanced at Keller, and she had to hide a giggle at his wide eyed, slightly freaked grimace. "So, what other things _can't_ you talk about," he drawled. "Let's hear about them." That made her giggle out loud.

Rodney glowered at John. "Oh, har har." Ronon chuckled, and Rodney sighed. "Don't encourage him, Chewie."

John glanced back at Ronon. "Chewie?" He felt the corner of his mouth twitch as he faced forward again. "Yeah, I can see that." They turned into the infirmary, and John noticed there were a few more people in the first area than there were before. Most of them looked like staff, but he did see one woman hobbling out of another room, her foot in one of those boot contraptions. And every one of them glanced curiously at the group as they walked on through and past the gal with the sprained ankle. The two guards took up position at the door and Keller directed John to one of six exam tables. He hopped up while she opened a cabinet for supplies.

And Rodney was still with them.

"Why are you still here?" John asked.

Rodney twitched and glanced around in surprise, and it was easy to tell he was asking himself the same thing. Then he lit up and raised a finger. "I needed to talk to Carson." Then he was gone, just like that.

John sighed. "He's a strange one. But amusing in a, I don't know, runaway train kind of way," he said. Ronon nodded his head in agreement. "How does his head fit through the doors?"

Keller laughed as she sat some supplies on the table. "Don't ask him – he's liable to go into some big long involved thing about quantum space and how light bends and God knows what else." She pulled on some gloves and started cleaning his knuckles. "When was your last tetanus shot?"

John frowned. "Six years ago. I think. Yeah, six." Then he hissed when she scrubbed the dried blood off and the disinfectant got into the scrape.

"You're good then," she said and finished up. Then she turned on Ronon as she snapped her gloves off. "Okay, buster, let's see that lip." He started to protest so she grabbed his chin. No – actually she grabbed his _goatee_ and made him bend down since she had to be a foot shorter than him, easily. She had him open his mouth, then she turned his head, frowned, and declared it fine and not in need of stitches.

Ronon straightened back up and flashed John a smirk over the top of her head as he rubbed his chin.

_Oh, yeah, there's something going on there_, John thought and grinned as he dropped his gaze to his knuckle. Now that it was cleaned up, he could clearly see two distinct tooth marks, and a bruise forming around the first two knuckles. Then he was distracted by Carson charging into the room. He glanced between John and Ronon, then visibly sloughed in relief.

"Oh, thank God," he said and leaned against a vacant exam table. "I thought something bad had happened."

John's grin disappeared instantly.

Rodney showed up a second later. "If you had let me finish my sentence, you would have known everything was fine," he said. "But no – have to assume the worst, go flying off in a panic. Really, I think you do it just because you like the way your lab coat flaps in the breeze when you get going, like you're some Hippocratic Batman in white without all the cool toys on your belt. "

Carson shushed Rodney and looked at John. "You're really all right?"

John smiled guiltily and held up his hand. "Ronon and I had a short 'chat' about this morning."

"It's all cool," Ronon rumbled with nod that sent his dreds in motion.

Carson looked back and forth between them a few times, his expression torn somewhere between disbelief and you're-both-bloidy-_insane_. He ran his hand down his face and held it over his mouth for a moment. Then he was glaring at Rodney.

"What?"

"You give me another heart attack like that, and I'll make sure I pull out the antique needles for you the next time you come in for so much as a _hangnail_."

Rodney visibly, and audibly, swallowed. "I'll, uh, wait for you in your office," he said as he pointed over his shoulder. Then he was gone in a twitch.

Keller walked over and put a hand on Carson's shoulder. "It's all under control. Go relax." And she gently herded him towards the door.

"All right, all right," Carson sighed and allowed himself to be herded. He pointed at John. "You – get some rest tonight. If yae can."

"I'll try," John replied. The doctor made a little _huh_ sound in the back of his throat before he left.

Ronon waited until he could no longer see Carson through the door into the other room. "Man, he looks like hell."

"I know," Keller said and sighed. John noticed earlier in the mess that she had some hellacious circles under her eyes as well, and now when she turned to face him they looked more like bruises in the infirmary's lights. "You're free to go back to your room." She started to pick up the small mess she made. "Do you think you'll need something to sleep? Or for pain?"

"Naw, I'll be good," John replied as he slid off the table. "Thanks. Again." He smiled faintly at her and got a really sweet one in reply.

As he was going back through the infirmary, he noticed he had three escorts. He glanced out of the corner of his eye at Ronon as he ambled along next to him. "You know, I already have tour guides," he said.

"Yeah, I know," Ronon replied, his eyes forward. "Just want to make sure your tour doesn't have any incidents."

John was silent for several steps, then he chuffed very softly and shook his head. "Thanks." He barely got the word out.

"Don't mention it."

-oOo-

When Carson got to his office he found Rodney squinting at his framed degrees and chewing on a fingernail. The former he always made a point of doing whenever he stopped by; the latter whenever he was nervous or had to face something unpleasant. He closed the door behind him and walked over to his cluttered desk. "I keep telling yae, Rodney, there are no references to veterinary medicine, voodoo, sacrificing chickens, or bones and rattles in that. So desist, all ready." Carson sighed heavily and sank into his chair.

Rodney gave a twitchy shrug and one last chew. "I just know it's in that really fine print somewhere – I just haven't found it yet."

Carson sighed again and swiveled his chair around. He began digging in one of the file drawers attached to his desk that he used as a catch-all. "What do you want, Rodney?" he asked, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

Rodney turned to him and made a little _hmm_ noise. "I don't want anything," he said a little too quickly. "I've just come to check on you, Carson. People are getting worried."

_People, as in you, but you'd never say that out loud, would yae now?_ Carson amended in his mind. He raised an eyebrow and glanced at the fidgety physicist. "Did Jenn put you up to this?"

"No." When Carson grunted at that Rodney raised his hands and made a bunch of fluttery movements accompanied by guttural sound effects before he got actual words out. "Okay, okay. Damn it, Carson – you missed the meatloaf with Guinness gravy tonight. _Guinness gravy_," he emphasized. "In the four years we've been here you've missed that as many times as, as, as – as many times as you've missed calling your mother on her birthday and Christmas. Which, I believe, is like _never_." He sat down in the empty chair in front of Carson's desk, slouched, and dangled his right arm over the back. He put his right leg up on his left knee and jiggled his foot crazily. "So, what is wrong with you? Huh? Are you sick? Confused? Dieting? Seeing a woman?" His left hand came back up. "Seeing a man? What, Carson? What is going on with you?"

Carson couldn't keep the short, dry chuckle in. Then he went _ah_ and pulled what he was searching for out of the back of the file drawer. He looked at his friend, and behind the mask of caffeinated irritation he could see the genuine worry. "No, Rodney, I'm not seeing anyone – woman, man, or _sheep_." He set a leather and silver flask on the desk. "But I am sick," he said softly. "Sick and so damn tired." He scrubbed hard at his face.

Rodney's eyes widened in alarm. Carson was his ground, his rock, his R2D2 to his C3PO. His frickin' Watson to his Crick. To see his friend keeping a nip handy in his desk scared the ever loving bejeezus out of him more than that abomination Kolya insisted on keeping in the basement. "Oh, hey – is that a good idea?" he croaked out.

Carson ignored him as he rolled his chair over to a shelf. There was a stack of those plastic cups that nurses liked to give pills in. He grabbed two and rolled back to his desk, where he sat both by the flask. Without a word he pulled the cap with a soft pop and filled both makeshift shot glasses. He recapped the flask and handed one to Rodney. "I'd be grateful if you joined me," he said, his voice soft. "As a friend."

"Okay," Rodney squeaked out. He only took half the shot. He closed his eyes and let the fumes from the twelve-year-old scotch fill his sinuses before he swallowed. He noticed Carson did the same. No words were spoken as they repeated the motion, and Carson refilled the cups. They savored those in companionable silence as well.

"I'm losing it, Rodney," Carson finally said. His eyes were focused on the empty cup and the amber beads that he rolled around in its bottom. "I cannot sit back and bear witness to this travesty of scientific process any longer and retain anything resembling a conscience. Something has to be done."

Rodney's face fell. "But, Carson …."

"No 'buts' about it, Rodney," Carson snapped. "They have to be stopped. _Now_."

Rodney flinched at his friend's words. "I know they do," he said as he sat his cup on the arm of the chair. "_But_ we have to be smart about it. If you go off half-cocked you're liable to get yourself killed." It all came out in a rush, and Rodney's eyes widened as if he surprised himself he said that. Out loud.

Carson seemed surprised as well. "You're tellin' me not to go off half-cocked?" He slumped back into his chair. "I do believe that is a first."

"Well …." Rodney shrugged and twitched.

"You _have_ been talking to Jenn."

Rodney held up a hand, his thumb and index finger about three inches apart. "A little bit." He grinned crookedly. "She even used the term 'cheeky'."

Carson sighed and scratched his scalp. "Aye, I have been. But I can't help it – Kolya gets me so riled up I can't even _think_ straight when I'm around him. And Dr. Chaya …."

"Now I bet _she_ has advanced degrees in reading entrails," Rodney said and shivered. "Where in the hell did he find her? That woman is seriously deranged."

"Precisely," Carson said under his breath. When Rodney cocked his head, he said, "Hell. I'd say, oh, fifth level at least."

"Huh." Rodney considered it a moment, then nodded.

Carson leaned forward and uncapped the flask. He refilled his cup, then raised an eyebrow at Rodney. Rodney held his out, and they both sat in silence again while they savored the single malt. "They need to be stopped," he said again.

"Yes, they do. But we can't do it alone." Rodney sat his empty cup on the edge of Carson's desk. "I'll start putting some feelers out, see who we can trust."

"Uh, Rodney? Leave that to me – you're about as subtle as a hurricane _and_ a tornado, combined."

Rodney opened his mouth and started to protest, then it crooked into a wicked grin a second later and he snapped his fingers. "Radek. He'd be perfect. It's that childhood imprinting from being raised in a Communist controlled country. He can find out _anything_. And I know he despises them both – he loses the ability to speak English whenever he talks about them."

Carson actually let loose a short chuckle. "Good. We have a start. Baby steps, but it's a start." He returned the flask to the dark reaches of his junk drawer. When he sat back up, he stared at Rodney until his friend started to squirm. "How in the hell did you come up with 'Hippocratic Batman'?" he asked.

Rodney stuck his jaw out and grinned. "That was pretty good, if I do say so myself."

_End Note: Man, I could use some of that whiskey right now. Gorram kidney stone._


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: I think Zelenka is the unsung hero of Atlantis..._

Chapter 9

Chaya adjusted the focus on the stereoscopic microscope and made a pleased sound in the back of her throat that was borderline obscene. She was so engrossed in studying the play of muscles as she manipulated the eight inch long dragonfly wings she didn't hear Kolya enter her lab. When his large hands settled on her shoulders she smiled and glanced up at him. The smile quickly disappeared as his grip tightened and his fingers dug into her trapezii.

Kolya leaned in close, his lips nearly brushing her ear. "Tatiana, dear – what were you trying to pull this afternoon?" His voice was soft, smooth, and seductive.

"I, I wanted to see it," Chaya gasped out. "It is such a beautiful specimen. I couldn't wait …." Then she cried out as fingers dug in deeper.

"We discussed this all ready, did we not? You lost your chance this morning in the infirmary when you left to change clothes." There was actually a hint of amusement in his voice, but not in his face. "The full moon is in five days. You will have plenty of opportunities to study it after that, but until then – leave. It. _Alone_." Kolya gave her a faint shake with the last word and released her. He stepped back and ignored her soft whimpers of pain as he glanced slowly around her lab. The place always smelled like a zoo, and he disliked coming in here. "Your little visit has put it on edge, and I'm afraid any other contact between you two will put it over." He noted her specimen cages only held a few now, and what ones were left were curled up in the corners and listless, glazed eyes staring into space. "This one seems very adept at passing itself off as human, and has made friends already with a few of the staff. Try not to jeopardize that. Watching its social interactions is all part of this experiment, too. Or did you forget in your eagerness?"

"No, Acastus," Chaya hissed out, her arms up and her hands still massaging her shoulders. "I still think you are wasting our time and resources."

Kolya raised his eyebrows and actually chuckled. "My time, or yours?" Then his face became hard again. "I have patience, Tatiana. I suggest you practice some as well." He glanced over her shoulder at the dead specimen under the microscope. Its wings were dull, and its skin already taking on a gray pallor. "You have a habit of breaking your toys too soon."

Chaya looked down at the tiny humanoid. She honestly hadn't noticed it had quit making any noise or movement.

"Stay away from its room, or I _will_ take it away as well," Kolya said. He took one last look around the lab and left before the smell gave him a headache.

Chaya flipped the small, limp body over, adjusted it positioning under the scope, and reached for her micro-dissection tools. It was going to be interesting to see how it differed internally from the one with the monarch wings that currently rested in the lab refrigerator.

-oOo-

John woke up with a start because of the unfamiliar scents and it took him a moment to remember where he was. Then it all came back and he just wanted to bury his head under the pillow and not come out. He glanced at his watch – just after five-thirty MST – so that put it four-thirty west coast. Crap. If he was home he'd be getting ready for his morning run. He laid there as long as he could until he couldn't stand it anymore and rolled out of bed. Still not quite five, local time. So he took his time in the shower and decided to hell with it and shaved.

That only wasted a half an hour.

"Crap," he muttered out loud this time. After he got dressed he tried the door controls out of pure stubbornness. And by God they opened. He was about as shocked as the two new guards on the other side. "Um, hey," he said and nodded at the men. "It is too early for breakfast?"

"Mess is serving," one replied. "Major Lorne wanted us to take you to him after you got up."

John felt a tiny bit of panic. "Can it wait until after I eat?" he asked cautiously.

"He's probably there right now," the other said. "Let me check." He stepped to the side, but still with John in sight, tapped his radio earpiece, and spoke softly. Then he said _yes, sir_. "He'll talk to you there."

"Cool," John replied. "Shall we?" He wound up leading the way, his two shadows only a few steps behind. This time he did encounter a few more people in the hall, and even rode the elevator down with a woman with long, curly dark hair and big blue eyes. She glanced curiously at the guards, but when she looked at him she gave him a shy smile. He gave his chin a little lift and smiled back, and damn if she didn't blush a little. But one of the guards cleared his throat and killed the moment, and when the doors opened she was the first one out and heading away from the mess. But she did glance briefly over her shoulder at him, and that had him grinning all the way to the mess.

He found the typical breakfast stuff and loaded up on eggs and bacon and toast, and when he joined Lorne and Ronon and the guy who gave him the Powerbar the day before he was _still_ grinning. And it stayed even when the guards took up positions right next to the table.

"Well, you look chipper this morning," Lorne said over his cup of coffee.

John picked up his own cup and took a sip and sighed – this place was going to spoil him for some things. "Finding the door unlocked this morning helped my mood considerably," he said. "And the cute brunette in the elevator was a plus." The guy with the fly-away hair and glasses sitting across from him was studying him openly, but there was absolutely no hint of malice whatsoever in his watery blue eyes.

From John's right Ronon chuckled. "You're up bright an early."

"Yeah, well, I'm usually jogging down to the highway and back a couple times right about now." He took another sip of the wonderful coffee before he set the cup down. "So, my shadow told me you wanted to see me this morning?" John asked as he unwrapped his silverware. He was proud he kept the panic out of his voice; mentally, he was hyperventilating.

"Yes." Lorne sat his coffee cup down and pulled a badge out of his pocket. "You're going to be given limited access to parts of Atlantis. With escort, of course." He handed the piece of plastic on a clip over the table.

"Of course," John repeated with a grimace as he took the badge. It just said _visitor_ and had a funky pixilated barcode on the bottom. He thought he should feel some relief at the semi-freedom, but instead it just upped the paranoia level even more. He clipped it to his front pants pocket.

"You'll be able to visit the mess, library, and gymnasium at any time – all on this level. That will get you into the library and gym between midnight and five, and it's also set up with some credit at the commissary in case you need anything. I'll show you around after breakfast."

"Thanks," John replied, his tone a tiny bit overwhelmed. Then he finally focused on the scientist. "By the way, thank _you_ for that Powerbar yesterday – it saved me from having to gnaw on my own arm."

The guy flinched a little, but then he shrugged. "It was nothing. I've become so accustomed to hearing Rodney whine about hunger that it is Pavlovian to offer Powerbar when I hear cries for food." His voice was heavily accented. "Like Boy Scout, always prepared." He smiled and offered his hand. "Radek Zelenka."

"John Sheppard." They shook hands briefly. "Pleased to meetcha."

"Stejně." Zelenka nodded and went back to his own breakfast.

"Were you able to sleep?" Lorne asked.

John had to swallow the mouthful he had before he could answer. "Not really, but it was mostly my own damn fault. I didn't know they did a remake of Battlestar Galactica – I got sucked into a marathon that lasted until two. Was lost at first, then just couldn't _quit_."

"Which season?" Ronon asked, his attention not leaving his own food.

"I don't know," John drawled out. "They were on New Caprica?" he offered.

"Ah, third season," Zelenka said. "Lucy Lawless." He made a little growly noise and bobbed his eyebrows. "They can make many copies of her any day."

John couldn't stop the chuckle. "Yeah, I hear ya. Took me awhile to get used to her being blonde, though."

"What did you think of Starbuck being a woman?" Lorne asked.

"I'm still trying to wrap my head around that one," John replied.

"She's hot," Ronon said and smirked.

John shrugged. "Eh. Now Boomer…." He was tempted to make a little growl, too, but … no, would not be wise. He saw Lorne nodding in agreement out of the corner of his eye. "Oh, man – when the Galactica jumped into the atmosphere to release the Vipers, then jumped out again …. That was so frakkin' _cool_."

That received a chorus of happy noises.

"I have man crush on Adama," Zelenka said without looking up. "Edward James Olmos is, is God." Then he found Zelenka and Ronon staring at him. "What? Wouldn't you follow him to end of universe?"

Lorne got a rather introspective frown on his face as he picked up his coffee. "Yeah, I would," he finally said then took a drink.

A dark cloud settled over the table as everyone suddenly focused on their breakfasts, and they all ate in silence for several minutes before Ronon broke the gloom. "I think the president is hot, too."

John glanced at him and could see the smirk trying to break free. Then he had to hide his own grin because, yeah, he kind of felt the same way. But he had an awful hard time _not_ thinking of her as President Stands With A Fist….

Zelenka snorted. "You have hots for any woman who could potentially kick your ass." He pushed his glasses up, drew his chin back, and shook his head. "I think there is something fundamentally wrong with that."

"Hey, you like Xena," Ronon countered. "She could wipe the floor with your ass."

"That, that is not why …."

"It's the leather," Lorne said matter-of-factly.

Zelenka's mouth hung open for a moment, then he began mumbling under his breath, and it wasn't in English. Lorne and Ronon were soon laughing at him, and he grew even more verbose.

John sat and grinned, and for a very brief moment forgot he was prisoner.

-oOo-

Carson wandered into the infirmary bright and early and headed immediately for the coffee. They didn't have any current patients so he went straight to his office. He left the door open as he booted up his laptop and shuffled a few files around and got ready to actually do some of his backlog of paperwork. That lasted all of half an hour before he was calling up the information from John's blood and DNA work-ups. Carson may be the CMO of the Project, but he was also a geneticist, and what he was seeing had him absolutely fascinated. He called up copies from a couple of the others he had secretly copied and began to run side by side comparisons. He was so engrossed in the data, and jotting notes, that he actually let out a startled yell when someone knocked on his office door.

Rodney let out a surprised yelp as well. "Jesus Christ, Carson – are you trying to give _me_ a heart attack now?" he said as he came into the office, his hand on his chest.

"Sorry, Rodney – I was concentrating," Carson said rather guiltily. "Didn't hear yae."

"Obviously. Put that away, we're going to breakfast."

"I'm not hungry," Carson said and picked up his coffee cup. He grimaced when he noticed it was empty.

"I don't care if you're hungry or not." Rodney came around the other side of the desk and glanced at the computer screen. "You're coming. Oh, hey – what's that?" Then he was peering over Carson's shoulder. "Is that who I think it is?"

"Aye." Carson called up some highlighted areas for Rodney to show side by side. "He shares some characteristics with the others here and here, but these base pairs are completely different. And there are variations here that are in common with the woman they brought in a few weeks ago."

"Really?" Rodney said. "So, what in the hell is he?"

"I have no idea," Carson said and leaned back in his chair. "He's something completely new. Part of me does not want to share this; she'll just want to sink her claws into him that much sooner."

Rodney visibly cringed. "Speaking of the witch, when do you think she will be, um …."

"Trying to dissect him?" Carson said disgustedly. "I'm not privy to that information. I only get to see and clean up the end results."

"So, when are you supposed to send the file to her?"

"I should have last night."

"Well, let's go get breakfast – you can send it after." Rodney grinned evilly and made let's-go motions towards the door.

"You know, Rodney, now that you mention it – breakfast is an excellent idea." Carson started saving data and closing down files. "And I really have been neglecting myself lately." He patted his stomach. "Perhaps I should swing by the gymnasium, go for a little swim afterwards." He shut his computer off and stood.

"Oh, don't forget to wait an hour after you eat if you do," Rodney said. "Don't want you to get cramps and drown or anything." He managed to keep a straight face as he said that.

"Aye, that would be bad." Carson even turned the light off in his office and shut the door as they left.

_End Note: Chaya needs to get it. I mean, disecting pixies... Jeez, she's evil. :)_


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: Thank you all for your comments and snark! It's nice to know this twisted little take on the SGA universe is bringing such joy. :) And you know - anyone who disects pixies is just plain EVIL!!!_

Chapter 10

The commissary was just off the atrium, and after a brief walkthrough John decided it was better stocked than some PX's he'd been in back in his Air Force days. He couldn't think of anything he needed – except maybe a brick of C4, some fuses, and a rope, and they didn't seem to have those in stock – so they left empty handed. He still had his two armed shadows, and Ronon seemed to have taken it upon himself to become his personal bodyguard. John decided knocking him on his ass and smacking him a few times yesterday was probably one of the smartest things he'd ever done in his life. Ronon hardly showed any signs of that brief fight – maybe a faint bruise around the split in his lip and that was it. John, however, had a purple shoulder, a vaguely boot shaped bruise on his stomach, and two stiff knuckles to go along with everything else. It just wasn't fair.

The library turned out to be a little further down the long hallway in the opposite direction of the infirmary. The doors opened up into a room half the size of the mess with the same floor to ceiling windows along one wall. There were a few big chairs with tables and reading laps scattered about the room, and an honest to God fireplace sat in one corner, even though it was cold at the moment. The interior walls were lined with shelves that held what looked like technical and medical journals and publications, all neatly arranged. Four huge free standing book cases held hardbacks and paperbacks, and it seemed the people here had a thriving book trade going on. Nothing was really organized – thrillers were wedged between romances, and science fiction and fantasy sat next to historical fiction. As far as he could tell as he glanced over titles was that color coordination was a bigger factor in arrangement. He couldn't help snickering and shaking his head as he looked over the selection.

"Yeah, it's a mess," Lorne said. "I've threatened a few of my boys with alphabetizing this lot if they didn't put their gear back nice and neat." He suddenly perked up and pulled a paperback from a shelf. He tucked it in the big pocket on left thigh and continued without changing his slightly bored tone. "Needless to say, my armory is _immaculate_." Ronon snorted from where he flopped down and slouched in one of the chairs, his leg hanging over one of the arms.

John glanced at where the two guards were standing by the door and noticed they were deliberately ignoring the major. He grinned as he turned back to the shelves and headed around to see what was on the other side.

The faint scent of pine and the sea hit him full in the face and he froze, and as he closed his eyes briefly he resisted the urge to just _inhale_. There was an air vent above one of the wall shelves that obviously brought in fresh air. He tucked that information away and turned to the shelves, his heart pounding in his chest. He just made a cursory glance then walked over to the windows. There was a fine rain falling and the world pretty much disappeared into mist just past the trees. He couldn't help putting his hand on the glass and just staring out at the gloomy scene. A moment later he could see Lorne step up, his reflected face set in a tight lipped grimace. They just stood there for awhile, watching the rain and the shifting trees. John finally cleared his throat and said very quietly, "You know, this is very nice and all, but all it's doing is making me twitchy waiting for the other boot to drop." He glanced at the major's reflection. "So, what's going to happen to me?"

Lorne lowered his eyes and lied. "I don't know. The last person we were ordered to bring here _is_ still alive. That was just over three weeks ago."

_Three weeks?_ John thought. He was ready to go insane, and he hadn't even been here a full day yet. "So there's some hope, huh?" Lorne didn't say anything right away, and he felt that little spark earlier he'd been nursing sputter and die like it was outside in the rain right now.

"I think the only reason she's still around is because none of our drugs seem to work on her," Lorne said. "And Kolya thinks he can break her." He grunted. "Fat chance on that ever happening. She's been in the brig ever since she got here and feisty as ever."

"And also because Chaya doesn't intimidate her at all," Ronon added as he got up from the chair. He came up next to John, crossed his arms, and frowned out at the rain. "She likes her victims to squirm, not fight back. Submit. She's a sick bitch."

"Got that right," John muttered. He stuck his hands in his pockets and turned his back to the window. He leaned back against it, his head down. "So, I take it there were others besides me and this woman?"

"Yeah," Lorne replied disgustedly and had to lower his gaze.

Even though he didn't want to know, John said, "And?"

The silence that followed stretched to nearly a full minute. "Carson can tell you about what was left of them," Lorne said very softly. He had seen what was left, too, since he and some of his boys had to do the clean-up as a little object lesson to keep them in line.

"Fuck," John muttered and rubbed his mouth.

"Hey, you're gonna be fine," Ronon said and bumped his shoulder. "You're tough."

John chuffed and didn't care that he had a bit of sub vocalization with it this time – he tended to revert to old habits when he was stressed. He didn't see the two men start faintly. "Well, hate to break the news to you, Chewie, but psycho Barbie scares the ever lovin' piss out of me." One of the disadvantages of his heightened senses was having borderline empathy, and the ability was already strong on his mother's side of the family. And people wondered why he spent a lot of time _alone_. "And Kolya …." He was just as crazy as far as he was concerned. Then he suddenly glanced up at the two guards by the door.

"They can be trusted," Lorne said. "Picked them myself."

"And the surveillance here?"

"It's the freakin' library," Ronon rumbled as if that was all the explanation needed.

John fought the urge to just slide down the window and sit on the floor. He stuck his hand back in his pocket, his gaze on the carpet again. "That I was drugged and brought here pretty much tells me my ass is grass, no matter what. Psycho Barbie calls me by a number, Kolya calls me 'it' and expects me to take that as a compliment, and I'm pretty much under house arrest. Yeah, despite the wining and dining, I'm screwed. No way around it." He managed to say that all in a relatively normal tone. "So, please, don't tell me I'll be fine. I'm not some stupid _specimen_." Now some anger was starting to creep into his voice.

Ronon drew his head back a fraction and glanced at Lorne. "Well, keep telling yourself that last bit and you won't be," Lorne snapped back. He was still facing the window, and when he spoke next it was barely above a whisper. "Things have started in motion. Just, just be patient."

John chuffed and shoved away from the window. "That's a lot easier said than done," he growled. Then he caught Ronon staring at him out of the corner of his eye. "What?" he snapped.

"What are you, man?" Ronon asked. The question was completely without disgust, or guile, or even demand. It was just a straight forward, simple question, one person to another.

"Screwed," John replied sarcastically and started to walk away.

"Are you a werewolf? 'Cuz if you are, I'd really like to know – the moon is gonna be full in a few days, and I wouldn't want to have to hunt your ass down and shoot you. I had to do that with the last one a few months back, and it was messy."

John stuttered to a halt and saw the two guards were listening with great interest. He slowly turned back around and regarded them.

"He does have a valid point," Lorne said casually. "I do have the security of a couple hundred scientists and a hundred civilians to consider, as well as that of my men."

"And there has to be some reason why psycho Barbie is interested in you." Ronon smirked at John's name for Chaya. "Can't all be about the spiky hair and pointy ears."

Despite his anger and gut clenching frustration, John felt the corner of his mouth twitch. "No, I'm not." And he left it at that. He turned and headed for the exit. "So, where's this gym? I'm thinking I could stand to punch a bag for awhile."

-oOo-

The gym was as state of the art as the rest of the place and was farther down the long hallway. There were actually quite a few people there this time of day, most of them obviously part of the military presence at the facility. Oh, there were a few he were sure were researchers or civilians, but not many. And again John found himself the center of both curious and hostile stares both as he was shown around. The place had everything one could find in a commercial gym, including a two lane lap pool. There were even separate rooms for various classes, and glancing at the schedules posted next to the doors yoga was a big thing here.

Right about then John decided he didn't want to know how much money it cost to run Atlantis for a day – and he hadn't even _seen_ any of the labs.

It turned out that at nine o'clock Ronon had one of the rooms reserved for his own Aikido class. "You want to sit in?" he asked John. "You don't have to participate."

"Sure," he said. When Lorne chuckled John had a feeling he should have refused, but he was curious. It would be a time waster, and Ronon said he didn't have to participate.

Boy, was he mistaken.

Lorne had to leave, but the two guards stayed by the door, within sight but out of the way. They found a Judo Gi for him to wear so he didn't look too out of place. Turned out Dr. Keller was in the class as well, and she assured him it was a beginning one. There were maybe ten people in all, and only one looked like he was actually military. And he and John and Ronon were the only guys. Ronon looked pretty impressive in his white top and funky dark blue samurai style pants, and he led the class through warm-up exercises that John could follow without any problems. Then Ronon would call someone up, review a move, then they would break up into pairs to practice. Keller would always grab John, and for that he was grateful having someone he knew present. Aikido turned out to be all about balance, and John caught on to the first few basic moves quite rapidly. Then came the combos, and that was when John discovered how easily and hundred and ten pound woman could drop his ass to the mat without any problems whatsoever. And smile so sweetly as she did it, too.

Amazing what a little turn of a wrist, a swivel, and one step could do.

After the, oh, thirtieth time he'd gone down, he looked up to see Ronon smirking down at him. "So that's how you did it," he said as he got back to his feet. The bruises on his shoulder were starting to smart, and he rubbed it and adjusted his top.

"Actually, you did it to yourself," Ronon rumbled. Then the big guy allowed John to practice with him. Now Ronon had maybe three, four inches on him and probably forty pounds, but man – once his balance was compromised he'd hit the mat just as hard as John did.

"This is cool," John said at one point as he held a hand out to Ronon to help him up. "I could get into this."

"You catch on fast," Ronon said as he ignored the hand and just flipped to his feet.

"Well, I've always had a great sense of balance," John replied and smirked.

The two hours passed way to quickly, and by the time they were done John had worked up a decent sweat. Didn't feel like he'd done much, but a quick glance around showed everyone else was just as sweaty. They bowed to Ronon, then bowed to the small shrine that sat in the front of the room, and that was the end of his first Aikido lesson. Keller came over to him as the rest of the class left and grinned up at him. "You did pretty good for the first time. I felt like a total klutzy idiot my first few classes."

"Yeah, well, being dropped by a bitty thing isn't much of an ego boost," John replied with a lopsided grin. He was rubbing his shoulder – the bruise was really singing now. Keller noticed, and he had him lean down so she could check.

"Ice that," she said, then gave Ronon a frown. He just smirked back at her and she rolled her eyes. "Do you have any ibuprofen in your room?"

"I think I remember seeing a bottle," John replied as he straightened his top yet again.

"Good. Take two every four hours for the rest of the day, and if it gets any worse come see me." Then she shook a finger at Ronon. "And no more throwing people into doors." Then she left. John's two guards were still at the door, and they both gave her big grins as she passed between them.

They watched her leave, and John smirked at Ronon. "She so likes you," he said.

Ronon grunted. Then he raised an eyebrow at John. "You want to learn some more moves? Room's free until one."

John grinned. "Sure."

-oOo-

They showed up for lunch just after one thirty. John could barely carry his tray his shoulder was aching so bad, and when they took the table in the back he let out a sigh when set his lunch down. "I think I'm going to take it easy for the rest of the day," he said as he gave that shoulder a slow roll. "Have to swing by the infirmary and grab a few ice packs. Don't think there were any in my room."

Ronon just nodded as he dug into his lunch.

John was chewing on the second half of his turkey sandwich when he saw Kolya enter the mess. Lt. Ford was with him, and both men looked his way before they got in line. John set the rest of his sandwich down, his appetite completely gone. Ronon glanced over his shoulder briefly. "Don't worry, he won't bother you here. He likes to sit in front of the door, so he's the first thing anyone sees when they come in," he said quietly. "Likes to remind the rest of us who's in charge."

But Ford was a different matter entirely. He came over to their table, all grins despite the black eyes and broken nose, like everything was just fine between them. "Hey, mind if I sit here?" he said and sat his tray next to John's. As he sat down he made a point of thumping John on the right shoulder, twice. Hard. "So, how you liking your stay?"

John was very proud of himself. He didn't make a noise, but he did draw his lips in as his shoulder dipped down a little. The little bastard knew. He slowly turned his head towards the kid and gave him a very tight lipped grin that was more grimace than anything else. The look in his eyes must have been conveying his current thoughts quite well because Ford's own little cocky grin faltered. "So, still feeling your pulse in your nose every time you bend over to kiss …." That was all John gritted out before Ronon cleared his throat and kicked him under the table. He looked at the big man and caught a barely discernable head shake. John took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "You want my dessert? I've lost my appetite."

"Sure."

John handed over his piece of Dutch apple pie and stood. He could feel Ford's anger, so he smiled and said, "Later, kid." It definitely came out as a threat instead of a goodbye. His two shadows accompanied him to the dish line without a word, as usual, and when he turned around, he dreaded having to walk past Kolya to leave the damn room. So he set his features into a calm mask, put his hands in his pockets, and ambled for the doors. He had no intention of even looking at the man, but as he got close all he could feel was a wave of cold contempt and wound up meeting his eyes anyway.

Kolya was smiling pleasantly, but his eyes were dark and full of menace. "Ah, Sheppard – so good to catch you. Grab some coffee and join me." He said it loud enough, and friendly enough, that people at the surrounding tables would notice. But funny – there was no _please_ in the statement. It was all command.

John stopped and gave him a flat, unblinking look that lasted about ten seconds. Long enough to make people stop chewing on their own lunches and take notice. "No, I don't think so," he said rather politely. Then he just headed for the exit.

The rolling wave of utter shock what washed over him as he stepped through the doors made John's stomach clench and what little lunch he'd eaten threaten to revolt. Then he got an itchy spot right between his shoulder blades that didn't go away until the doors closed. _Huh, didn't get shot. Man, that was really stupid. But surprisingly … cathartic_, he thought as he crossed the atrium and turned down the hall to go to the infirmary.

_End Note: Way ta go, John! Just can't leave well enough alone, can ya? Jeez..._


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N: corkieshome brought up a good point: If everyone is so unhappy, why do they continue to work [at Atlantis? So, I thought I'd take a moment to 'splain my madness. :) There are over 500 people on Atlantis, and if you're a researcher there you probably have a core group of individuals you deal with on a day to day basis and that's pretty much it. Those in admin would probably be the only ones who deal with the majority of those at Atlantis, and they would notice something was off. By the time the weirdness filters through the entire population, however ... well, it would probably be too late to really do anything, and it's hard to rally the forces when everyone else has their heads buried in their own projects. So you don't want to stir any pots (unless you're Kavanagh) or jeopardize your own work, so you grin and bear it (and hope you don't get dragged into the mess). For about 9 months things have been odd, but the last 3 have been particularly odd, and those in admin are obviously under a lot of strain. Then, to top it off, a charismatic psycho WITH GUNS is suddenly in charge. Things are stretched to a breaking point and people are afraid to act ..._

_Then along comes John. He's the catalyst to really get things moving - the Mentos in the bottle of Diet Coke, the M&M in your buddy's bottle of beer (bartender joke - the beer will foam the color of the shell once it dissolves). He wakes people up, gets them thinking, makes the shit hit the fan... :) That's how my brain is working._

_So, without further delay, the next hit. Er, chapter. _

Chapter 11

Unnoticed by John, Zelenka sat at a table with a group of other engineers on the opposite side of the cafeteria. He saw the colonel enter, and felt the mood of the room instantly shift. He was actually quite sensitive to things like that – he inherited a bit of the sight from his Nana Božena and it had come in handy on numerous occasions. It was one of the reasons why he could openly mock Rodney when he was in one of his moods; he knew when it was safe to push back, and when it was wise to just bow his head and do his work like a good little underling. And it was also why he knew he didn't need to be afraid of the žadatel that was now roaming around somewhat freely in their midst. He recognized John for what he was immediately. The man was good, without a doubt, and he was sick inside that he was eventually slated for that, that crazy otrava Chaya's lab. And he liked Battlestar Galactica and the great and beautiful goddess that was Lucy. That was a very good sign, in his opinion.

So that was why he was reveling in the assignment Carson had given him. The current group he was with he knew he could trust, and he mentally added their names to his steadily growing list. Major Lorne was compiling a list of his own of the soldiers here that were for security – though lately some were treating their posts as if this was a police state as opposed to a research facility. And he was extremely overjoyed that Ronon was on their side. The big man had a list of martial arts black belts as long as the degrees after Rodney's name, and he would have been a very formidable enemy. Yes, it was for the best – and considerably less painful – for him to be on _their_ side.

Now, the young Marine that just sat down next to John – he could not be trusted. He was blinded by Kolya's charisma, could not see the man for the monster he truly was. He watched the young man clap the žadatel on the shoulder, and from here he could see the pain register on John's features. He waited for him to turn on the lieutenant and rip him to shreds – that was the usual reaction a vargyr would have – but nothing happened. Either he was incredibly disciplined, or very old, Zelenka decided. He hoped it was the former; the latter tended to have a lot of leverage in its clan, and if something happened to him there would be many more descending upon this place to avenge his death.

And that would be, be špatně. Very, very bad indeed.

Then John stood abruptly, and the others with him turned to see what had Zelenka's attention. They could tell he was angry and barely holding it in, and as he walked roughly in their direction Zelenka could see the colonel watching John with amused interest. John passed their table, but didn't notice him. However, the two guards following nodded at them. Ah, Ferguson and Stackhouse – there were two Lorne told him were very much on their side.

"So, what's the story on that one?" one of Zelenka's lunch companions whispered. It was Katsuo Nakamura, their robotics expert. He didn't look old enough to be here, but it was only because he had such a round, boyish face. He was actually well into his thirties.

"He is a žadatel, a Pretender, here at Dr. Dominatrix's behest," Zelenka hissed. His fellow engineers all looked at him with expressions ranging anywhere between horror and curiosity.

"I'm surprised they're letting him run around with just two guards," Peter Grodin said quietly. "Poor bastard – why do you suppose he's doing this?" He indicated Kolya with a slight jerk of his chin. "Trying to teach everyone a lesson in control and manipulation?" He couldn't hide a sneer with his words.

Zelenka shook his head and shrugged. "It is just added torture, if you ask me."

Then Kolya's voice interrupted their, and nearly everyone else's, conversation with his false invitation. The silence that followed was practically a physical presence in the room, then when John refused the offer Zelenka was certain he wasn't the only one who sat there with his mouth gaping open like a carp in the tank of a Chinese restaurant.

And the man just walked away from Kolya.

It stayed silent in the cafeteria until the doors shut, then a low buzz filled the room. Kolya didn't glance around; he returned his attention to his lunch, an amused little half smile on his face. But Zelenka could feel the volcanic rage coming off the colonel, and it was making it hard for him to breathe.

"Holy shit!" Grodin whispered. "He, he – he stood up to the colonel." His voice was full of awe, and just a tiny bit of horror.

"Oh, that was not wise," Zelenka muttered. "Very brave, yes, but very foolish." But nonetheless, he couldn't stop the tiny shiver of exhilaration that ran through him right then. Finally, someone showed it could be done, and _lived_.

-oOo-

John didn't really remember the walk to the infirmary – hell, he was barely aware of his two constant shadows. He was caught somewhere between riding a high from standing up to the asshole, and a full blown panic attack because he stood up to the asshole _in front of_ _witnesses_. He actually defied Kolya's authority in front of everyone. _Oh, crap. _That kind of man will take it very, very personally, and John had no idea what to expect as a retaliation. Maybe if he was really lucky, it would be bullet in the back before he got left alone with psycho Barbie.

Then he found himself in the infirmary – wow, he could find his way here in a daze now. Not a good sign. When one of the nurses approached he offered an apologetic smile and said, "Just stopped by for a couple ice packs. Doc Keller told me to ice my shoulder." She smiled at him and disappeared back into the depths of the place.

"Here, now, what are yae doing here?"

John turned and saw Carson standing there with a coffee cup in one hand and looking very worried. And he caught a faint whiff of chlorine coming off of him.

"My shoulder is bothering me from yesterday," John said sheepishly. "Came by to get a couple ice packs."

Carson let out a relieved sigh, then saw the nurse returning with them. "All right. Minor things are very welcome right now."

"I'll bet." John took the packs and gave her quick smile in thanks. He was glad to see the doctor was actually somewhat relaxed at the moment. "I'll, uh, talk to ya later. Maybe at dinner?"

"Aye," Carson replied and headed for his office.

John didn't stop anywhere else – he just headed straight for his room. He figured that just might possibly be the safest place at the moment.

-oOo-

Carson was caught off guard again when someone came storming into his office maybe twenty minutes later. This time it was Chaya, and what he had on his computer screen at the moment was, thankfully, just his regular work. But he still jumped and damn near spilled the remainder of his coffee all over the chart he currently had open on his desk.

"Where is my report?" she asked as she stopped right next to him, her arms crossed.

Carson could feel his pulse hammering in temples from the adrenaline rush, but he offered her a pleasant little grin, or as much of one as he could muster. "Ah, sorry – completely slipped my mind."

"I'm sure it did," she replied icily. "Did you have plenty of time to review it?"

Now Carson's face went hard. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I did." Her eyes narrowed dangerously, but he met her gaze without flinching. Then he called up the intranet, and only taking his eyes off her long enough to find the file and attach it, e-mailed the results to her. "There. Now get out of my office." His words were measured, precise.

There was something in his tone that made Chaya actually take a step back. "The colonel will hear about this," she said.

"I'm sure he will," Carson replied rather calmly. Then he slapped his palms down on his desk and partially stood. "Now – _leave!_"

Chaya backed up one more step, her previous sneer disappearing. But then she made a short, strangled noise, then stomped out of the office.

Carson sat back down and ran a hand down his face. He was shaking as he dropped his hand down on the arm of his chair. _Oh, Christ, what did I just do?_ A few minutes later Keller was curiously peeking her head into his office, no doubt coming to check out what the yell was about a moment ago. She took one look and him came rushing in.

"Carson, are you all right?" she asked in alarm.

He stared numbly up at her. "Oh, crap. I'm getting too cheeky for my own damn good," he said and let out an airy laugh.

"You're scaring me, Carson," Keller said and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Well, love – I'm scaring myself." He laughed again and wondered if he was going insane. He picked up his coffee and downed the last cold dregs. "I do hope that doesn't come back to bite me in the arse," he muttered as he stood up from his chain.

"What did you do?" Keller asked as she backed up out of the way.

"Oh, followed Rodney's lead, for one," he said. "And essentially threw her out of here, for another." He picked up his empty mug and headed for the door. He glanced at her, and saw her grinning at him.

"About God damn time," she said as she walked out of his office with him.

Then Carson chuckled in earnest. When he was refilling his mug a few minutes later he heard a commotion in the front part of the infirmary. A moment later Rodney and Zelenka came charging in, and both men were practically vibrating from excitement.

"What happened?" Keller asked curiously as she glanced between them. She was putting the finishing touches on her own cup of mint tea.

"It, it was ohromující!" Zelenka said as he practically bounced in place. "The žadatel stood up to Kolya in the cafeteria. In front of everyone." He pushed his glasses up. "It was inspiring, even."

"I even heard about it before Radek came and found me," Rodney said and rocked back and forth on his heels a few times. "And I wouldn't be surprised if everyone on Atlantis knows before the hour is done." He glanced at his watch. "Oh, hey – five minutes. Yup, that's enough time." His eyes were glittering.

"Oh," Carson said. He didn't feel nearly as ecstatic as the two of them were. "Oh," he said again softly. "Kolya is not going to like that."

"Of course he isn't," Rodney snapped. "Someone openly defied him in front of everyone – he's probably pissed as hell."

"He is," Zelenka said with a nod. Oh, he knew. He could practically _taste_ the anger afterwards.

"I think this is _exactly_ what was needed to wake people up." Then Rodney's face fell as things really began to sink in. "Oh." He looked at Zelenka, and the Czech sobered immediately. "Oh boy. Um, Sheppard is toast. Not that he wasn't already. Oh, crap."

"The major will do something once he hears," Zelenka said. "And Ronon. He has grown attached to Sheppard. It was the punching."

"Oh, I hope so," Keller said. And just like that, everyone's mood went from triumphant to terrified.

-oOo-

John's shoulder was feeling pretty good by the time six o'clock rolled around. He'd found an 'Outer Limits' marathon and that kept his mind off of things until dinner. He got up and when he ran his hand down the controls for the door, nothing happened. He did it again, and when the doors stayed shut he banged on the copper panels a few times. Nothing. "Hey!" he yelled and banged some more. "Crap," he muttered when the doors remained shut. He ran his hands through his hair and refrained from kicking them. Good thing he stuck a Powerbar in his pocket at lunch. He fished that out and flopped back down on the end of the bed.

Just after seven the doors opened. John rolled his head that way and the major was there. He did not look happy at all. "Hey," he said. "Didn't expect that to open again tonight." He kept his voice pretty light, but inside he wanted nothing more than to jump up and punch someone.

"I gave my boys orders to keep you here if Kolya was in the mess." Lorne stayed in the hall. "You caused enough of a stir today. Do you have a death wish?" he yelled.

John chuffed and sat up. "And how is that any better than what they have planned for me? Huh? Please tell me, because I really don't see much of a fucking difference." His voice rose as well as glared at the group in the hall.

Lorne reacted as if slapped. Then he frowned. "Are you hungry or not?" He made a crisp turn and started down the hall.

John got up and ambled out into the hall. His shadows immediately took up their normal positions. He caught up with the major at the elevators and they waited in silence for the doors to open. Only after they stepped in did Lorne say something. "Did I not warn you about doing something stupid?" he hissed, his lips barely moving.

"Sorry," John hissed back. "But I've been feeling a little trapped lately."

Lorne grunted. "You and a whole hell of a lot of others," he said as the doors opened. "Welcome to the fucking club." The small group waiting for the elevator parted for him as he stomped through.

John was frozen in place, his eyebrows raised. Well, he felt like a total ass now for his little temper tantrum. He followed Lorne out into the atrium, and the four people waiting for the elevator all gave him and the two armed guards a wide berth. He gave them a quick, lopsided smile, and they all smiled hesitantly back at him.

It wasn't until they were sitting at their usual table – Rodney, Ronon, and Zelenka were already there and just finishing their desserts – before John spoke again to Lorne. "Yeah, sorry about that earlier." He unrolled his silverware and kept his eyes on his plate. "Kinda had tunnel vision."

Lorne grunted again and just started eating. After a few bites he pointed his fork at him and finally said, "No more stupid shit. Got that?"

"I'll try," John replied and dug into his salmon.

Ronon bumped his shoulder and smirked as John nearly lost the bite on his fork. "You're a legend now," he said.

"Great," John drawled and popped the bite in his mouth before it fell off completely.

"Yes, the women are talking more about you than they are Ronon-san," Zelenka said. "That has not happened for, oh, couple years now."

Ronon flipped a carrot slice at him like it was a tiny orange shiruken and scowled. It just made the little Czech laugh to himself. "Well, it is true."

Rodney was grimacing, but it was with amusement. "Yeah, that may have been incredibly stupid, but you made quite a few people's day. Including mine." He hid his smirk behind his coffee for a second. "Between that and puking on Chaya, I think you're my new hero.

Zelenka looked at Rodney in surprise. "He's surpassed Batman? Neuvěřitelný."

"You're, ah, welcome," John said. He got a warning scowl and a raised fork from Lorne. "I think." Then he just concentrated on his meal.

_End Note: And the caca starts to gum up the rotary cooling device..._


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N: Now you get to find out that John is a ... nope, not yet. :) _

Chapter 12

Carson was leaving the infirmary at a decent hour for a change and was heading for the cafeteria when a voice from behind stopped him cold.

"Ah, Doctor. Won't you walk with me?"

Carson turned and saw Kolya actually leaning rather nonchalantly against the wall – he never looked that direction when he left the infirmary. His gut churned as he spotted the two armed men with him and he knew he had no choice in the matter. "Certainly, colonel," he replied.

Kolya pushed away from the wall and they headed down the long hallway that ran nearly the entire western length of Atlantis. "Dr. Chaya came to me this afternoon, quite upset. Raving, even."

"Figured she would," Carson said somewhat under his breath. He glanced nervously at the two men who fell into place behind them. One was Lt. Ford, and he felt his heart break just a tiny bit. He was a good kid, but he had terrible choice in role models. The other was Sgt. Bates, one of Kolya's more die-hard followers.

Kolya chuckled. "Yes. I didn't think too much of it – she can be rather demanding and melodramatic at times."

If that was meant to put him at ease, it failed miserably. "'Demanding' isn't the word I'd use," Carson said. _Daft bugger, maybe_, he thought to himself. _Crazy as a shit house rat, for another…._

"She made the accusation that you have been stealing her data." Kolya watched Carson out of the corner of his eye, and when the doctor didn't reply he gave what would have been a reassuring smile from anyone else. "You have nothing to worry about from me, Carson. Actually, I am pleased you've been examining the data from her work. You are a highly respected geneticist – I would be very interested to hear what you have to say about the specimens Dr. Chaya has been working with."

Carson drew his lips in and remained silent.

"I am especially interested in your opinion on the newest one."

Carson stopped abruptly, and Kolya went a few more steps before he stopped, too, and turned to face him. Carson ran a hand down his face and held it over his mouth for a moment. "If you're wanting me to say 'he isn't human, just an animal so go ahead and do what yae want', I'm not going to. And never will." He watched Kolya's eyes narrow briefly. "But I will tell yae he isn't like the first three Dr. Chaya chopped to pieces."

"It's not a lycanthrope?" Kolya asked, his dark eyes shining with interest. "What is it, then?"

"I have no bloidy idea," Carson snapped back. That 'it' thing really pissed him off. "I believe _he_ is a shape-shifter, like you both obviously think he is, but what he turns into I haven't a clue. And he shares some genetic markers with the woman that you kidnapped last month. Whatever she is."

"Really? So, it is something completely new," Kolya said more to himself than to Carson. "Fascinating. Thank you, Doctor. I will be sure to point out your findings to Dr. Chaya. She may set aside her anger with you long enough to consider them. This may even point her studies into an entirely new direction." He nodded to Carson then started to walk away, but paused and turned back briefly. "I will make sure you are credited for your findings." Then he turned down the hall that led to the atrium.

Ford and Bates pushed past Carson to follow Kolya. Carson didn't notice their rudeness – he felt cold inside and close to vomiting. He ran his hand back down his face and found a light sheen of sweat there. It didn't surprise him. The thought of his name associated with _anything_ those two were doing left him feeling slimy and hollow inside, like a forgotten jack-o'-lantern two weeks after Halloween. He got his feet moving again, but since his appetite was now long gone he just took an elevator up to his floor instead.

-oOo-

John managed to make it nearly to five-thirty, local time, before he woke up. At least this morning he had something he could do – after dinner Zelenka, of all people, managed to hook him up with a duffle bag, some sweats, and a pair of running shoes, his size, and still in their box. Rodney made the comment that it had something to do with early imprinting in the Black Market, but Zelenka countered it was just because people _liked_ him. John was really starting to like the little Czech. McKay – eh, he wasn't too sure, yet. Sometimes he wanted to just smack him upside the back of his head, but from what he understood that was how most people felt about him. But he was amusing in a hyperactive, spastic kind of way. So he packed up his borrowed stuff and headed down to the gym with his perpetual shadows.

He was on one of the treadmills, the last in a line of other occupied ones, and nearly done with his eight mile run and completely lost in the zone when the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. He glanced to the right and saw Chaya decked out in her own workout gear, watching him, a predatory smile lighting her face. He nearly lost his rhythm and came close to flying backwards off the treadmill. He barely caught the rail and started slowing the speed down. "What do you want?" he gritted out through his teeth.

"It is good to see you take care of yourself, Forty-seven," Chaya said and walked around behind him. "Health is so important."

"My name is John," he said angrily between pants as he tried to keep an eye on her. He wanted to add _you crazy fucking bitch_ to that statement but he was concentrating on cooling down. She came back into view on his left, and he glared at her. His two shadows were in that direction as well, and he could see them tensing behind her. "John. One syllable – easy to remember."

Chaya made an amused little _hmm_ and stopped right next to the treadmill. She ran her hand along the rail distractedly. "Yes. Well, I knew a researcher who made a point of naming each and every one of his lab monkeys, but in the end he still dissected them."

Now John did come off the treadmill with a fairly graceful hop. He just stood there, staring at her, his mouth open as he gasped for breath. "Jesus, you're … you're _cold_." The other joggers in the line were watching now.

Chaya stiffened a little, then frowned. She took a step closer to him, and John didn't hesitate retreating a step. His back came up against the front of an elliptical machine and stopped him dead. She noticed, and the predatory smile slowly returned to her face. She reached out and ran a finger down John's chest, and he flinched away from her touch. "I will see you later, Forty-seven." She turned and walked away, a sway in her hips that would have been seductive any other time. Now it was just outright creepy.

A couple of the other joggers stood on the sides of their treadmills, their expressions damn near as horrified as John's. He shut his machine down, then spent the next ten minutes pacing around the room to cool off. His guards stayed within sight, their expressions nearly as freaked out as his. He wiped sweat from his face with the hem of his t-shirt as he walked. He was jittery inside, and it wasn't from fatigue, and at one point he was sure he was going to puke again. But it eventually passed into a terrified numbness that gripped his brain and made one thought sit there and repeat itself over and over again: _get out. NOW._

-oOo-

John was still numb as he tried to eat his breakfast. He was alone at the table in the back corner for awhile, picking at his food halfheartedly and ignoring the other diners. He couldn't look at them too long because they all had the exact same expression on their faces as they regarded him this morning: pity. So he kept his head down until he felt people approaching. He looked up and saw Ronon and Keller. The doctor had a smile on her face, but it suddenly disappeared. Ronon even drew his head back a little and his eyebrows shot up briefly, then they were sitting their trays down. "Hey," John said and offered a smile that was nothing more than a quick twitch of the corner of his mouth. Beyond them he could see the two guards talking quietly to Lorne. He dropped his gaze back to his half eaten breakfast.

"John? What's wrong?" Keller asked as she reached across the table and put her hand over his.

He drew his hand back and put his forearm on the table between him and his tray. He didn't say anything for fear of it coming out in a crazy laugh. Then Lorne was sitting down next to him, and he could feel the anger boiling off the man. That helped with the focus.

"You should have said something to me the second that happened," Lorne said through his teeth.

John shrugged like it was nothing. "Sorry, Major – figured your boys would report it."

"What?" Ronon asked.

"Ran into psycho Barbie in the gym," John said softly.

"Shit," Keller muttered, and everyone except John looked at her. "What happened?"

Since it was obvious John wasn't going to elaborate, Lorne repeated what his men told him just a second ago. Now a horrified silence fell over the table.

"She's cracked," Ronon muttered as he shook his head.

"Ya think?" Keller supplied. She picked up her tea and held it tightly between both hands like it was a mint scented life preserver.

She had mixed it pretty strong, and John was finding it was making him a little light headed. He leaned back in his chair, his appetite officially dead, and rubbed his nose.

"I think it would probably be best if you stayed in your room for the rest of the day," Lorne said.

_Oh, great – make me feel even more trapped,_ John thought to himself. "So, really want me to go stir crazy, huh?" he blurted out. "Gee, thanks."

Lorne's mouth clamped down into that tight line. "Look – I'm trying to keep you alive here, Sheppard. So can the fucking attitude."

John drew his head back. Then he lowered his head and nodded. He rubbed his hand across his mouth and leaned his forearms back on the table. "I think the other boot finally dropped."

"Not yet, it hasn't," Lorne replied. "Not as long you're still allowed to roam." He glanced down the table to Ronon. "Can you keep him company today? Keep him occupied so he doesn't do something stupid?" John's head jerked up and he frowned at Lorne.

"Sure," Ronon replied with a smirk. "I'm supposed to train some of the Marines this afternoon on advanced hand-to-hand. Want me to cancel?"

Lorne thought about it. "No, keep that for now. I'll find someone else for the afternoon shift."

"I don't need a babysitter," John growled.

"I'm doing this to keep you alive," Lorne said softly. "But so help me, God – if you do something to jeopardize things, I will personally kick your ass. And what's left I'll give to Ronon."

Ronon grinned.

"All right, all right," John said. It was getting harder and harder to stay pissed – the genuine concern he could feel from all of them was really touching. He chuffed and shook his head, and when he looked up he saw Keller smiling at him. "They always this bossy?"

"Not really," she replied and sipped some tea. "Only when they're worried." When the two men frowned at her she rolled her eyes. "Oh, please – you two are so predictable. I'm surprised you both don't beat your chests and grunt when you get into 'overprotective' mode."

John had to draw his lips in to keep from grinning as the two continued to stare at her. Then Ronon broke the silence by thumping his chest a couple times and going _ook ook_ before digging into his breakfast. He seemed to be having a hard time chewing around his shit-eating grin.

Keller's hand came up. "See, told you."

John chuckled. "Thanks," he said to them all. He picked up his fork and decided he could finish his breakfast after all.

-oOo-

Since John didn't want to spend the entire time locked in his room, Ronon dragged him to the gym and they played one-on-one until his legs were rubber and he was ready to drop. Then they played horse and even managed to drag the guards in on it. John was so tired he couldn't hit anything, then he did have to go back to his room to shower and change before lunch. Rodney and Zelenka joined them, and after lunch he found out they drew the afternoon shift.

"How are you with a wrench?" Zelenka asked him as they left the mess.

"I'm competent," John replied. "Keep my truck and well pump running, no problems."

Rodney snorted and Zelenka pushed his glasses up. "Well, what we have is much more complicated than that, but another pair of hands is always a help."

They entered an elevator, and this time they went down a couple levels. The corridor looked just the same as every other so far, and as they followed it down and around a corner John could pick up the scent of solvents and oil and other chemicals. It made him sneeze a couple of times, and Rodney flinched away from him. "Sorry," he said and rubbed his nose. "Think I passed through something I was allergic to."

"Huh," Rodney said. "I can understand that."

They stopped in front of an extra-wide door and Rodney keyed it open. He made the two guards stay outside, but they didn't seem to mind. They stepped into a sizeable room, and sitting on a stand was what looked to John to be an aircraft engine. A really weird aircraft engine that was the size of a Mini Cooper. "Cool," John said as he walked over to it and around it.

"Careful," Rodney said with a twitch and grimace.

John jumped back, and glanced at him worriedly.

Zelenka sighed and rolled his eyes. "It's fine. He's just paranoid when it comes to his toys." He motioned John over to a rolling work bench and handed him a very recognizable socket wrench. "Help me get cover off." While they did that Rodney began attaching computer leads to a section in front and started a diagnostic program.

"So, what is this?" John asked as he and Zelenka loosened bolts.

"It's an engine from an … um, ah, can't tell you that," Rodney said and grimaced.

"Oh, more of them," John said and rolled his eyes that time. He saw Zelenka smirk.

John spent most of the afternoon just sitting on a stool out of the way and only occasionally helping with some of the heavy labor. It was fun watching the two men work together – Rodney with his superior attitude being matched snark for snark by Zelenka. Even when the Czech was reduced to arguing in his native language, it still didn't stop Rodney from arguing right back. He could sense a rivalry between them, but it wasn't bitter. It was more like a couple of siblings than anything else, and whenever it did start to move into hostile territory Zelenka could turn it with a few deft insults or jokes and they'd be back on track.

John should have realized sooner the little scientist was empathic.

The only light in the room seemed to be focused on the mystery engine and where John sat was partly in shadow. At one point Rodney glanced over at him and flinched noticeably – the man's wide pupils were reflecting blue-green in the dim light. He even did a double take. "Um, could you not do that? You're creeping me out," he snapped at John.

John frowned faintly. "Do what?" he asked. He saw Zelenka look at him as well and start faintly.

Rodney pointed spastically at his own eyes. "That – that reflection thing."

Now the corner of John's mouth twitched. "Sorry, kinda involuntary there."

"Huh," Rodney replied. He returned his focus to his tablet, but kept glancing at John. "Kind of like the hair?" he finally said after a minute.

"Yeah, McKay – kind of like the hair," John growled.

"Just wondering." And that was all Rodney said about the subject.

They worked steady – well, the two scientists worked steady, John watched but surprisingly wasn't bored – until six, then went to dinner. They had their usual crowd at the back table with the addition of Carson. John noted the man looked absolutely exhausted, but he put up a front for everyone. Conversation was rather subdued, especially from John – he felt about as exhausted as the doctor looked from his run, the basketball, and jangled nerves. He excused himself shortly after he finished his dessert.

"You going back to your room?" Lorne asked threateningly.

"Yes, major – I'm going back to my room. I'm beat." _In more ways than one,_ he added mentally. "See you in the morning," he said and waved at them as he left. He tried his best to ignore the looks people gave him as he walked through the mess, but he couldn't block the feelings coming off of them. That and the smell – all of Atlantis seemed to be permeated by an undercurrent of sweat and adrenaline today. It reeked of fear. That made his legs weaker than they already were, and he didn't think crawling under a table would be acceptable behavior. He really did return to his room, and he just flopped down face first across the bed. Ten minutes later he was out like a light.

And five hours later he was wide awake. He got up, used the bathroom, and shoved the Powerbars he'd been collecting at every meal into the big pockets on his thighs. He grabbed one of the jackets and put it on, then opened the door. The two guards frowned at him. "I can't sleep," John said as he ran a hand through his messier than normal hair and scratched his scalp. "Mind if we run down to the library for a minute so I can find something to read?" He rubbed his arms then like he was cold then zipped up the jacket.

"No, not at all," one of the men said and they headed down the hall.

They encountered a few people, but mainly in the atrium, and those were heading into the mess for a midnight snack or coffee. There wasn't a soul in the library, and the second the doors slid shut John spun and bounced one man _hard_ off the wall. He hadn't even slumped to the ground before John caught the other with a cross that damn near broke his jaw. He went down, but the first was still stirring. Two quick jabs left him motionless.

John took one of the P90's and a knife from the guards, then pulled the belt off of the closer one. After firing a quick burst into the door controls, he ran over to one of the chairs and dragged it over to the bookshelf that sat below the air vent that brought in the smell of pine and the sea. Standing on the back of the chair, he levered the grate of the vent open in two spots with the knife, threaded the belt through the top opening and caught it with his fingers on the bottom, and with one foot braced against the shelf yanked the thing completely off the wall. He about fell over backwards when the thing ripped free with a screech and he flung it away with the belt. He turned the flashlight on the P90 on briefly and shone it down the duct. It was going to be a tight squeeze, but he knew he could fit.

John dropped the P90, and using the shelves as a ladder he crawled into the vent. He wouldn't need the flashlight – he just planned on following his nose.

_End Note: (Author grabs a cat in each hand to use as a pom-pom.) GO, JOHN GO! GO, JOHN, GO:)_


	13. Chapter 13

_A/N: hAvng trbl typng cz f bndagez... I'm not gonna tell ya who is in the dungeon. Or what John is, yet, (though I know someone has figured it out already) Jeez, that would totally ruin, like, chapter --! ;) And yes, Lorne is very, very pissed..._

Chapter 13

Lorne barreled into the library, and the first thing he noticed after the techie fixing the door controls was his two men on the floor. One was sitting up and bracing his jaw with a hand, the other still lying on his back, and Sgt. Stackhouse was kneeling next to him with a hand on his shoulder. He looked up at him and nodded – he had been on monitor duty and called Lorne the second Sheppard took the two men out. Lorne nodded back as he breezed past and joined Johnson and Ford by the gaping hole in the wall. Ford was standing on the back of the chair and shining the light from his P90 down the air duct. He turned when he heard Lorne approach. "Sir," he said and hopped off the chair. "He has a ten minute head start at the most. I think I can fit …."

Lorne waved him silent and climbed up on the chair until he could see down the dark hole. "You stupid God damned _sonuvabitch_!" he yelled into the vent. It echoed faintly and he hoped he was heard. He glanced down at Ford and Johnson and noted the young lieutenant was smirking. He frowned and looked past him. "Stackhouse – I want to know where this thing leads."

"Bates is getting the schematics from control as we speak, sir," the sergeant replied.

_Oh, shit_, Lorne thought as he jumped down to the floor. _I'll have both of Kolya's lackeys here. The only thing that could make it worse would be …._

The doors opened spastically and it was Bates followed closely by Ronon and Keller. Lorne let out a quick breath. "What do you have for me, sergeant?" he said to Bates.

Bates stood next to Lorne and called up a diagram on the tablet he was holding. "This air vent connects up with the main fresh air intake for this level," he said. Ronon came over and loomed over Bates and crossed his arms while Keller knelt down next to the prone guard and opened her emergency kit. She checked the man's pupil response and frowned.

_Now how in the hell did he know that?_ Lorne thought as studied the plans. "It comes out to a hell of a drop here." He may not have been able to get dressed in his proper BDU's when they woke him up, but he did have his radio earpiece. He tapped that and ordered a team to the east side of the complex immediately.

"Sir, I can follow …." Ford started to say but stopped suddenly when the doors to the library opened a little smoother and Kolya stormed in.

"Major, report!" he snapped, and _everyone_, including Ronon, came to immediate attention. Keller let out a startled sound and flinched away from the colonel.

"Sir! At approximately oh-one-fifty Sheppard came to the library with his guards, overpowered them, and escaped into the air ducts. It doesn't appear he took any weapons with him, and I've sent a team to intercept."

Kolya stopped and stared at the hole. The muscles along his jaw bunched and he turned to Lorne. "This is the sort of thing that happens when you neglect your duty and decide to get chummy with them instead of treating them like the animals they are."

Lorne kept his expression neutral and his eyes forward, and only through a force of will kept from grinding his teeth. He wanted to bring up the fact that it was _Kolya's_ idea to have him running around in the first place, making _friends_, but decided silence was the smarter course of action at the moment.

Ford jumped into the silence. "Sir – I know I can fit in there. Do you want me to follow it?"

"Go," Kolya said and jerked his head toward the vent. "Keep in radio contact. And I want it _alive_."

"Understood, sir," Ford replied and flashed a triumphant grin at Lorne. He flipped his cap around, and after quick consideration, removed his tac vest. He climbed up and with his P90 leading the way was soon out of sight.

"Sir, that might not be a good idea," Lorne said. "If he feels cornered, Ford could get hurt."

"You said yourself it was unarmed," Kolya said. "I'm sure the lieutenant can handle anything it throws at him."

"Sir, may I point out that he had no problems pulling that vent cover out of the wall."

The said cover was lying near Ronon's feet, and he casually crouched down to flip it over. It was three feet across, maybe eighteen inches high, and was bowed out considerably in the middle. Only two of the eight four-inch metal screws were still attached – the rest were broken off completely. "Ford may bite off more than he can chew," Ronon said and stood back up. He openly met Kolya's gaze.

Kolya made a quiet little grunt and fixed his gaze on Lorne. "Then, major, I strongly suggest you be in a position to give him back-up."

"Yes, sir."

"Keep me apprised of the situation," Kolya said and marched from the library.

Lorne's expression changed for the first time since Kolya showed up – he drew his lips in and barely kept a snarl in check as he drew in a very deep breath. He turned to Bates and held his hand out for the tablet. Bates handed it over and as he started scrolling through various displays Ronon came over. After a few seconds he said, "Bates – I want you and Johnson to go here." He pointed to a room down the hall and closer to the atrium. "If Ford gets into trouble, this will provide a relatively straight shot for extraction." He handed the tablet back to the sergeant.

"Yes, sir," Bates replied, and a second later he and Johnson were gone.

"You know, if he does get out, and figures out this place is an island, there's only one place he'll head."

"Yup," Lorne replied. He glanced at Stackhouse. "We still have a full supply of darts?"

"Yes, sir," Stackhouse replied.

"Good." Lorne glanced at Keller. "You need help, doc?"

"I'll need to call for a stretcher – he has a concussion," she replied. Then she tapped her own radio ear piece and did just that.

Lorne tapped his ear. "Ford – how's it looking?"

"I can hear banging from somewhere up ahead, sir, but that's it," came Ford's slightly hollow sounding reply.

"All right. Proceed with caution." He glanced at Ronon and Stackhouse. "You two – with me. Let's go retrieve that stupid sonuvabitch." Both men nodded in reply and they were on their way to the armory a heartbeat later. They passed the two medics with a gurney in the hall as they headed for the library.

-oOo-

John was fifty feet down the air duct when he suddenly thought, _Oh, crap. I hope there aren't any fans in this thing_. He could just picture some big old thing whirring away, ready to chop him into bitty pieces. He froze and listened hard, but didn't detect anything. He even laid his cheek on the cold metal of the duct and tried to feel any vibrations that might indicate equipment operating in the small space. There was something, but it didn't raise any hairs along his neck so he continued his crawl. The sheathed knife he took from the one guard was shoved down the back collar of his shirt within easy reach, and the hilt kept jabbing him in the base of his skull. He didn't want to push it down any further for fear of not being able to reach it in the confined space, so he tried to keep his head down.

It was dark in the duct, but not pitch black like he expected. Enough ambient light came in from other smaller ducts that shot off at angles from the main one that he could even count the number of bolts holding the heavier seams together. But then, his night vision was exceptional, anyway, and the little bit of light worked better than any flashlight for him. He came to a major junction that was capped by a big intake fan, but it didn't impede his progress as he crawled steadily onward, the smell of pine and salt spray pulling him along.

When he came to another junction he did pause briefly. The air was coming from several directions, and he parted his lips slightly as he took in several deep breaths through his nose and mouth. _There, that way_, his senses told him, and he took a side duct. It was a little narrower, and after a few yards came upon what appeared to be a filter of some sort. He felt around its edges, and a moment later found the release that let it slide up out of the way. Ten feet beyond that was another grate and fresh air hit him full in the face.

He closed his eyes and inhaled and wasn't ashamed of the little whimper he let out.

Then he backed up to the last junction, turned around, and before he headed back to the grate feet first he heard Lorne's faint and slightly echoing yell. John couldn't help flinching guiltily. "Sorry, major," he whispered and started scooting himself backwards on his stomach. When his feet connected with the grate he pushed back until his knees were slightly flexed and his toes were the only thing touching, then rolled onto his side and wedged his shoulders and hands against the floor and ceiling. His right shoulder complained at the pressure as he made a test kick with one foot. The vibration travelled all the way up to his shoulder and made it throb even more. Then John pulled both feet back and began pounding in earnest. Each hit brought out other little aches and pains, but after a half dozen he felt the grate start to shudder. Eight more popped the thing free, and for a moment it hung by one abused screw before it tumbled away into the night.

A few seconds later he heard it ring loudly as it hit stone.

_Okay, that's not good_, he thought as he flopped back over onto his stomach. He was about to crawl back again and turn around when he felt a faint vibration along the floor and walls of the duct. _Crap, someone's coming_, he thought and grimaced. He didn't have a choice and started scooting backwards again.

First his feet, then legs were hanging in mid-air. Once he got his waist even with the lip of the opening he let his legs dangle. Rough stone met his knees and he grinned as a moment later his toes found some purchase on the outside wall. He carefully reached back with his right arm, his shoulder really putting in its two cents worth now, and after a few tentative tries found a decent grip above the hole. The angle was incredibly awkward, but after he slid out a little more, he repositioned his feet and carefully eased his torso out.

The stone facing on Atlantis was very rough, with lots of gaps and ledges, and John had no problem clinging to it as he glanced down. It was probably a storey and a half to the ground below, and it was jagged sloping rock. Then he glanced upwards and grinned. There was maybe ten feet at the most between him and the lip of that roof he could see from his room. He was a pretty decent rock climber, and it took him no time at all to reach that since the facing was damn near like a ladder. The knife started to slide down his back at one point, but thankfully it stopped up short in the waistband of his pants. Once he got up over the lip and was standing on the roof he shoved it further into his waistband and took in his surroundings.

There were enough gaps in the clouds currently that it allowed the light from the nearly full moon through. John could clearly see the trees maybe twenty yards from the wall, and just beyond them was what looked like a small sheltered bay. He could see a dock jutting out into dark water, and what appeared to be the edge of the roof of a boat house that way as well. To his right and probably fifty yards away was the top of a huge greenhouse, its glass panels glowing as softly as the intermittent moonlight. To his left and a little farther was another storey of the building, and above that the main 'tower' of Atlantis. But what got his attention was the windsock attached to one corner and lightly fluttering in the breeze.

John made a beeline right for it. He was pretty sure he was brought here by air – when he tried to wake up after his abduction he remembered the heavy, unmistakable whap of helicopter rotors. He hadn't flown for several years, but he knew he'd never forget how to do _that_. He came up to the corner formed by the wing and the main tower and jumped. He saw the move in a Jackie Chan movie once, and by God it worked. With the rough stone and momentum he just kind of hopped up the corner in three steps. It was far enough he was able to get his arms and chest on the edge, then hoist himself over.

He decided Jackie Chan had to be a Pretender, no doubt about it.

His elation was quenched when he saw the helipad was empty. "Crap," he muttered. So much for that idea. Then the door in the tower opened and two armed men came out. They spotted him immediately and yelled at him to freeze. John just turned and dropped back over the edge of the roof. He landed easily on all fours, then sprinted for the edge of that roof. He glanced over quickly – the ground here wasn't as rough and seemed a little closer than it was further down. A shot and a bullet ricocheting off the ledge a foot from his right hand made up his mind for him and he dropped over that edge as well. _This is gonna hurt_, he thought, and sure enough – when he landed on all fours he felt the impact all the way up through his shins and into his hips. Then he was off at a staggering run for the tree line.

Another shot whizzed past him before he got into the trees. He paused a moment under their cover to get his bearings then headed for the bay. He'd stop every once in awhile and listen for pursuers, but as far as he could tell, he and the wind were the only things moving through the woods right now. When he came to the forest's edge he studied the dock and boathouse. He also noticed a section of Atlantis that was previously blocked by the trees seemed to come out of the low cliff face at the base of the bay and had a couple of large garage doors and short docks of their own. _Delivery area, maybe?_ he thought to himself as he made his way for the boathouse. It was a lot larger than he realized, and had four huge berths.

And the side door was unlocked.

"Halle-fucking-lejah," he muttered as he ducked inside. He remained motionless for a second, listening, sniffing the air. The place was empty. He could make out four boats inside – two were pretty decent sized, too, and reminded him a little of police rigs because of the large spotlight mounted on the roof of the cab. He would have liked to have taken one of those, but he was pressed for time and had no idea where the controls to open the bay doors were. And the doors looked solid enough that punching his way through with a boat would probably hurt the boat worse than the doors.

Besides, he could see eight sea kayaks sitting in cradles along the back wall, along with paddle jackets and paddles and an assortment of other gear neatly stowed away. That would work. He had been canoeing before, lots of times. "How hard can it be?" he said to himself and grinned in the dark.

John grabbed a jacket and a paddle, then ran up to the first kayak – it was a big red thing with black hatch covers and rigging and had the word Kodiak stenciled on its side. A reflective emblem near the cockpit that had three slits like shark gills winked at him in the dark as he slid his arm into the cockpit and hoisted it up onto his shoulder. It surprised him – he expected it to be heavier than it was considering it had to be close to eighteen feet long. He continued to the far end of the boathouse and another door. He had to set the kayak down to get the door open, but then he had it back up on his shoulder and was outside again.

The paddle jacket was a little big for him once he got it zippered up, and it took him a moment to find the straps that would cinch it down tight to his lean frame. Then he was dragging the kayak into the water. He got wet up to his knees before he attempted to climb in, and just that brief time it took to straddle the boat had his teeth chattering. He dropped his butt down into the seat, then damn near tipped the thing over just getting _one_ leg into the kayak. He froze, his eyes wide, and slowly got his other leg in. Then the little waves of the bay were rocking him and it took another minute to find his center of balance before he pushed into deeper water with the paddle. He found that once he got the nose of the thing pointing _into_ the waves, it felt a whole hell of a lot more stable.

"Okay. I can do this," he said and started paddling. He was used to the canoe stroke, but it didn't take him long to get used to the double bladed paddle. His shoulder didn't like it, but tough shit.

He was nearly to the end of the little bay when he heard one of the big doors on the boathouse open and the burbling roar of a big diesel engine coming to life. "Shit," he muttered and glanced back. The motion nearly capsized him. "Okay, don't do that, John," he said and focused his attention forward. He broadened his paddle strokes and headed for the open water. Maybe two, three miles away he could see the coast of what he hoped was the mainland in the shifting moonlight.

Once he cleared the relative shelter of the bay John realized he had probably made a very big mistake. Three foot swells came in from the side – in a bigger boat they would have been no problem. Fun, even. But until he got the kayak pointed into them he was nearly capsized several times and water came in over the cockpit's side. By the time he felt somewhat in control again he was sitting in nearly six inches of very cold seawater, his balls were trying to crawl up somewhere near his sternum, and his teeth were constantly chattering. But damned if he was going to stop now, and he bulled his way through the waves with a determination born from desperation and a good old healthy dose of fear.

He was a hundred yards from shore when the boat roared out of the bay, its searchlight stabbing through the night. John couldn't help glancing back again as it settled on him, then the boat came right at him. At the last moment it veered away and the wake flipped him just slick as snot. He didn't have to worry about holding his breath when he went upside down – the shock of the water froze the breath in his lungs and made his eyeballs feel like they were going to explode. He bobbed to the surface only a few seconds later – it felt like a minute – and sucked in a stuttering, painful breath. He had no idea where the paddle went, but the kayak was only a few feet away. He got to it and tried to flip it back over, but the thing was so full of water and he was getting so cold he just couldn't do it.

So John just held onto the side of the cockpit, the feeling in his arms and legs quickly receding as he slowly treaded water, and watched the boat slowly come around and head right for him again. By the time the spotlight picked him out and blinded him, he was contemplating just undoing the straps to his paddle jacket and sinking. If he could have felt his hands, he would have.

_End Note: And I've taken that little spark of hope, and squashed it down flat like the annoying little insect that it is! Bwa ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!!!_


	14. Chapter 14

_A/N: Dang it - now I want to go kayaking. I can hear my boat calling me from the garage. Must use calming moodra. "Ohkayakpaddlemehooooooooommmmme. Ohkayakpaddlemehooooooommmmme." Crap, not working..._

Chapter 14

Lorne, Ronon, and Stackhouse exited the elevator on the lowest level of Atlantis and jogged down the long hallway that led to the loading docks. One of his men up in control was keeping him updated on their escapee's progress via surveillance cameras, and when it was reported Sheppard showed up on the helipad it surprised Lorne. They were in the armory gearing up when that came over the radio.

Ronon glanced at Lorne, his eyebrows raised. "He's a pilot?"

"Apparently," Lorne replied as he strapped his side-arm on. "Huh." It was a good thing it was out on a routine perimeter check at the moment, or else he'd have bigger mess than he already had.

A moment later Ford reported seeing Sheppard running into the woods from where he had his head stuck out of the air duct. The team Lorne had ordered to that side of the facility were directly below him on the steep, rocky slope and wouldn't be able to reach Sheppard in time. There was the sound of a gunshot a moment later and Lorne nearly came unglued. "Stand down, Lieutenant!" he snapped into his own radio.

"Just fired a warning shot, sir," Ford replied.

_Sure you did_, Lorne thought.

"I'm going to have to head back – too much of a drop," Ford replied. "How the hell did he do it?" he wondered out loud.

Well, he understood _why_ he did it, Lorne thought as they jogged down the hall. They turned into the loading dock and went for one of the smaller safety doors. He saw the looks people were giving the man at dinner – between that and the encounter with psycho Barbie he would have bolted, too. He couldn't blame him, but damn it, couldn't he have waited just a few more days? There was a quiet revolution starting on Atlantis, and a few days would have made one hell of a difference.

Lorne's lookout in control reported that the target was in the boathouse now so he just slapped the safety bar and flung the door open. Ronon had a big tranquilizer pistol in his hands, Stackhouse one of rifles, and he had a P90. They ran the hundred yards to the boathouse and pressed their backs against the wall. Ronon glanced down at Lorne and nodded, and Lorne crouched down and opened the door. A second later they both spun around, Ronon towering over the major from where he crouched and Lorne using the light on his weapon to scan the boathouse.

"Oh, man, he took my boat!" Ronon said a second later as he shuffled around Lorne, pistol raised, and into the building. Lorne stood up and he and Stackhouse followed him in. Ronon charged to the opposite door and pulled it open. He disappeared briefly, then came back, the pistol pointing at the floor. "He's already out in the bay."

"Determined bastard," Lorne muttered as he found the bank of light switches and flipped them on. Stackhouse jumped onto the nearest boat and Ronon started untying lines. Lorne ran over to the bay door controls and flipped the switch before running back to the boat. He jumped onboard just as Stackhouse fired the engines, and a minute later they were backing out of the berth.

"He didn't grab a spray skirt," Ronon said and frowned somewhat smugly. "He's never kayaked before – we should be able to scoop him up easily."

"Good," Lorne replied. "Then I'm going to kick his scrawny ass all the way back."

The boat cleared the doors and Lorne joined Stackhouse in the cab to operate the spotlight. Ronon went to stand out on the bow, and they proceeded somewhat slowly as they scanned the waves. Then Ronon pointed out towards sea. "Shine the light that way," he yelled. Sure enough they all caught the flash of a white paddle blade a moment later. They clearly saw him glance back and almost go over.

"Let's go collect him before he drowns," Lorne said and Stackhouse opened up the throttle.

Ronon came back into the cab. "Don't get too close; you're liable to swamp him, and he isn't in dry gear." The he and Lorne exchanged raised eyebrows. "Swamp him," they said at the same time. "But don't hurt my boat," Ronon added.

Stackhouse nodded at them and pulled away at the last minute, throttle still open. Then he swung back around and Lorne picked out the bottom of the kayak with the spotlight moment later. "That should take some of the fight out of the stupid sonuvabitch."

-oOo-

The hull of the boat came dangerously close to his head, then a moment later John felt hands grab the straps of the paddle vest and he was being roughly hauled out of the water. He'd actually hit the point where his teeth quit chattering, and he was glad he couldn't feel anything as he was dropped heavily onto the deck of the boat. He rolled onto his back and looked up at the major, and the anger he could feel pouring off the man was fully expected. But the disappointment wasn't, and that made him feel like a total ass. Briefly.

"What part of 'stupid shit' do you have trouble comprehending?" Lorne yelled, the veins in his neck standing out. "Jesus!" He ran a hand through his hair and stomped into the cab of the boat.

John just curled up on his side and drew his arms and legs up – now that he was out of the water and the breeze was catching him, the chattering and shivering was returning. With a vengeance. A second later he saw a flash of red as the kayak joined him on the deck. He could feel Ronon's anger, too, and a moment later the big guy was kneeling down next to him. "At least you grabbed a cheap paddle – if you had lost my good carbon shaft, I'd have to throw you back," he growled as he started unzipping the paddle vest.

"W-w-w-wish you w-would," John muttered back. He tried pushing Ronon's hands away but was about as coordinated as a trout at the moment.

"Quit fighting," Ronon said as he pulled the PFD off and tossed it aside. "We've got to get you dry." Lorne showed up a second later with a couple of folded blankets. But he set those aside and started to help Ronon pull John's wet clothes off.

"Hey, I h-hardly know y-y-y-you guys," John said weakly. He still couldn't feel his hands or feet, and he felt really tired, but it still didn't keep him from struggling feebly. He managed one semi-descent kick.

Lorne grunted. "You're not my type," he said as he pulled John's boots off. "Damn it, knock it off. We're trying to help."

"I'm n-n-not going b-b-b-back," John growled.

Then Ronon just flipped him onto his stomach and pinned him there. "The more you struggle and fight, the greater the chance you can go into cardiac arrest from hypothermia. So _quit_!" John tried to lift up but Ronon slammed him back down. "Don't make me trank your ass again."

When Ronon raised his voice it was damn impressive. John quit fighting, but his shivering was getting painful and his arms and legs were starting to hurt. His cheek was pressed to the deck, and it felt oddly warm. "Don't want to g-g-go back," he whispered as he squeezed his eyes shut.

"You're going to be holed up in the infirmary for a few days, and that is probably one of the safest places to be right now," Lorne said as he helped Ronon pull John's wet jacket off. "The docs will do anything to keep you out of Chaya's hands." Ronon grunted in agreement. Lorne looked up at Stackhouse. "Sergeant, call Keller and have her send a med team down to the loading dock. Let her know we're bringing him in with hypothermia."

"Yes, sir."

Lorne returned his attention to John. "Can you sit up?" John tried, but he just couldn't do it. They got him upright and pulled the soaked fleece shirt off, and then wrapped one of the blankets around him before they pulled his pants off. They got the other blanket wrapped around him and helped him into the cab, out of the wind. John sank down into one corner and curled up on his side, and the only thing they could really see of him was his chin and chattering teeth.

Stackhouse brought the boat right up to the loading dock and they waited for the team to show up with a gurney before they moved John. Ronon and Lorne had to practically carry him. As soon as they got inside Keller had the head of the gurney propped up a little and was uncapping a thermos. She only filled the cup halfway and held it to John's lips. "Drink," she said as the little group double-timed down the hall. Lorne and Ronon followed behind, and Ronon had the pistol shoved through his belt like he was some wild west gunslinger.

John lifted his head and tried to hold the cup as well as they rolled along, and he was shocked at how pale his long fingers were. They damn near looked blue against Keller's hand, and he swore faintly when they connected with the hot cup. He took a sip, and as far as he could tell it was just hot water with sugar in it. But damn, he could feel that first swallow all the way down. He greedily gulped down the rest and Keller refilled it.

By the time they got to the infirmary John had finished off the thermos and was squirming from the ache in his arms and legs. Carson was there, waiting, the scowl on his face frightening to behold. He, Keller, and a couple nurses transferred him to a bed and swapped his blankets out for fresh, dry ones and a set of scrubs. They wrapped him up like a mummy and got more warm liquid in him, and the pain from his shaking was bringing tears to his eyes.

Carson got one arm unwrapped long enough to give John a shot of something. Then he tucked the arm back amid folds and shook his head. "If you weren't such a scrawny bugger, you'd be handling this better," he said. Then he scowled at him. "Are you bloidy insane?"

"I call it self-preservation," John whispered as he closed his eyes against another wave of painful spasms.

"Are yae sure you aren't being suicidal?"

"That'd work, too," John replied. He leaned his head back into his blanket monk's hood as he felt the painkiller start to kick in. When he opened his eyes again he saw the doctor watching him. "I had to try," he barely whispered and lowered his gaze. A second later he felt a hand settle lightly through the layers of blankets over his shoulder.

"I know," Carson replied quietly and gave John's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "I'll keep yae in here as long as I can."

Keller arrived with another steaming mug, and this time he caught the scent of tea. Good – hot sweet water was just … awful. He kept his hands wrapped in the blankets as he accepted the mug. Made it awkward to drink, but it kept his hands from burning like a mother. And a good thing it wasn't mint tea – that stuff made him, well, _loopy_, and he was starting to feel disjointed enough from the pain killer.

"Drink that and try to get some rest," Carson said.

"Thanks," John said quietly and actually managed a hint of a smile that didn't look like a grimace. He was really going to owe both of them at this rate.

Carson sighed wearily before he said, "You're welcome, son." Then he excused himself, and as trudged past the two ever present guards at the door he was rubbing his neck.

John couldn't help feeling guilty and did grimace. Keller sat on the edge of the bed and kept him company as he drank his tea. He was halfway done before she finally spoke to him.

"Ronon is really pissed at you for stealing his kayak," she said gravely. John's head came up, and when he saw the gleam in her eyes he relaxed a little. "When you get out of here, I strongly suggest you wait awhile before taking any more Aikido classes from him. It could be, um, painful."

"I'll remember that," John replied and took another sip of tea. That she felt he had a chance for future classes was oddly reassuring, but the little trapped animal voice in the back of his mind reminded him it was just talk. He was still a prisoner, and he knew that wasn't going to change any time soon. When he finished the tea he handed the mug back to her with a quiet thanks. He was able to settle back then and felt secure enough to doze off for awhile.

-oOo-

Sometime later John was awakened by a commotion out in the main part of the infirmary. He had a moment of panic when he couldn't move, then remembered he was still wrapped in blankets. And he realized he was warm again, almost too much so. He was working his arms free when a wave of roiling emotions hit him from the other room, and a second later Kolya came striding in trailed by three armed men and Carson. A coldness settled in John's gut that had nothing to do with his dip in the ocean earlier. Kolya's eyes met his from across the room and all John could think was, _oh, fuck_.

"He can't be moved yet, colonel," Carson replied as he bulled past one of the armed men and got in front of Kolya. Keller came to the doorway, then, and appeared just as flustered as Carson. The group did stop and Kolya just looked down calmly at the doctor. "He needs at least another twenty-four hours before …."

Kolya was fast. He drew his Beretta and pistol whipped Carson heavily across the face. The doctor when down hard. Keller yelled his name and dashed into the room. Kolya just stepped over the doctor as he put his gun back. "Bring it," he said to his men as he jerked his chin briefly in John's direction.

John was struggling to get free of his blanket cocoon before they got to him, and he was growling so softly he felt the vibration more in his chest than anything else. He just got his arms completely free when the soldiers were on him. One was that Ford kid, and his eyes were bright as he grabbed one of John's arms. John about yanked him off his feet, then someone had his other arm and they yanked him off the bed. His legs stayed tangled in the blankets for a moment, but he was squirming and a second later they were free. He braced his legs and despite still feeling shaky from painkillers and hypothermia, he _really_ started to struggle. He knocked Ford into an empty bed, but the third guy was there immediately to take his place, and he was a lot bigger than the kid. Then the back of John's head exploded and he started to go down, only to be brought up short by the grip the two men had on his arms. His sore shoulder protested, but the agony in his head overshadowed it and any other complaints. He was hoisted roughly to his feet, and a second later his jaw was being clenched in a very strong grip and his head was being raised. Kolya's dark eyes locked on his.

"That was a very foolish stunt you pulled earlier," Kolya said through his teeth. He gave John's head a shake before he let go. "And now you give me no choice but to cage you. Take it away."

They started dragging John past Carson and Keller. He could see Carson was sitting up, his eyes not really focusing, and his left cheek was bleeding heavily. That made John find enough coordination again to start struggling against his captors. Suddenly Ford was right there, and the last thing John saw was the butt of the lieutenant's P90 coming at him.

_End Note: Kolya's gonna get it. Kolya's gonna get it._


	15. Chapter 15

_A/N: Somewhere I have a button that reads, "Cruel, nasty, neurotic, paranoid, antisocial, but basically happy." I just may have to dig that out of storage. :) And now ... the bitty snowball has just topped the crest of the hill and is starting down._

Chapter 15

Despite being the most brilliant man on the planet (if he did say so himself), and despite having a power of concentration so fierce that if bottled it could just possibly wear Mount Everest down to a mole hill if poured over its summit, there were times Rodney's powers of _simple_ observation were sorely lacking. Like right now. He made it all the way across the cafeteria, sat, and had even shoveled in a few mouthfuls of food before he realized his breakfast companions were rather … subdued. Ronon had his head down and was scowling as he picked at his food, Lorne looked exhausted and hadn't even bothered to shave this morning, and Zelenka looked like someone had, well, kicked his puppy. If he had one. "Hey, did I miss something?" Rodney asked innocently.

"Yeah, doc, ya did," Lorne replied and sat his fork down. He sat back in his chair and scrubbed his face hard with both hands. "Sheppard made a break for it this morning."

"He did?" Rodney said. "When? How?"

"Right around two. Got into the air vents from the library." Lorne picked up his coffee cup and grimaced since it was empty. "Even managed to get out of the building."

"Really?" Rodney said, his breakfast all but forgotten.

"We fished him out of the ocean before he froze to death," Ronon rumbled. "The sonuvabitch stole my kayak." Ronon frowned and shook his head.

"Holy crap," Rodney muttered. "Um, somewhat stupid question here, but … why did you stop him?"

"Been wondering that myself," Lorne said quietly.

"You couldn't disobey Kolya's orders," Zelenka said as he pulled off his glasses to clean them. "Would have raised suspicion."

"He wouldn't have made it to the mainland," Ronon said. "Better to have fished him out then have him freeze to death."

"Why, so he could be relegated to a fate worse than death?" Rodney noticed Lorne flinched at that. "I'm sorry, but I don't see how stopping him was a good thing at this point."

"If he had just waited a little longer," Lorne said angrily. "Things will be different."

"Yes," Zelenka replied thoughtfully as he put his glasses back on. "We have the time, but I'm not so sure he does."

Rodney scooted his eggs around his plate for a second. "Where is he right now?"

"Infirmary," Lorne replied.

"That's good. Yeah, Carson will be able to keep him there for awhile." Rodney looked at Zelenka and lowered his voice to barely above a whisper. "How's that list coming?"

"We can count on entire engineering division, nepochybně. And nearly everyone else in sciences is willing to help, just not actually fight."

"And we can count on a third of the military force, no problem," Lorne added.

"Okay," Rodney said. "Well, subterfuge is not for the stupid or weak willed, that's for sure. We've got a start." He picked up his coffee and grimaced as he sipped and thought. "Next step will be to meet, hopefully without Col. Cuckoo's knowledge."

Ronon snorted at that and grinned for the first time.

"All righty, then," Rodney said as he sat his cup back down. "Now we need to get some key people …."

Rodney was interrupted by Keller's frantic voice coming over their ear pieces. He'd taken to wearing one just because it was easier to get a hold of him in case of a dire emergency, like one of the labs in danger of full meltdown, a viral leak, or the coffee pot in the main physics lab had boiled dry. "Dr. Keller to Major Lorne, come in. Please!"

Lorne sat upright and tapped his piece. "Lorne, here. What's wrong, doc?"

"Get to the infirmary, immediately," she gasped out. "Carson's hurt."

That had Rodney shooting to his feet as fast as Lorne and Ronon. "On my way," Lorne said and they all left their trays on the table. And the group earned a lot of strange and worried looks as they charged out of the mess.

-oOo-

Keller glanced up and practically shook with relief when Lorne and Ronon charged into the exam room, shortly followed by Rodney and Zelenka. Carson tried to sit up, but she put a hand on his shoulder and said, "Oh, no you don't. And don't you dare remove that ice pack."

Lorne stopped right next to the table, and Ronon came to a halt right next to Keller. He put an hand on her shoulder and she patted it gratefully. "What the hell happened?" Lorne asked.

"Kolya," Carson replied and started to sit up again. He waved Keller off impatiently and swung his legs over the edge. He swayed briefly, but he kept the ice pack pressed firmly to his left cheek and eye and now they could all see the blood spattered on his white lab coat. "He came and got Sheppard a few minutes ago. When I voiced my displeasure, he smacked me down." For emphasis he pulled the pack away – his eye was half swollen shut and his cheek was purpling nicely. He turned briefly to Keller. "Stitches?"

"Stitches," she said with a nod.

"Crap." Carson returned the pack with a wince. "I dunno where they took him," he said miserably.

"I'll find out," Lorne replied, and after a quick nod to him and Keller, he left. Ronon stayed put.

Rodney was frozen in place from the second he stepped into the room, the acidic taste of coffee thick in the back of his throat. When Carson pulled the pack away he nearly puked, and now as he stood there he noticed that a good portion of the infirmary staff was in the room as well. And he had a feeling the expression on his face was pretty much the same as theirs – an equal mix of horror, fear, and numbness. But something else was creeping into Rodney's awareness, and when his hands started shaking and his breath started coming in gasps he realized it was anger. Pure, unfiltered, unadulterated, nuclear, brain numbing _rage_. He turned his head and saw Zelenka staring at him, his eyes huge behind his glasses. "Uh, hold up a second, major," he said and spun around. Before he left the room he heard Carson call his name, but he ignored it.

Lorne was waiting for him, an impatient scowl on his face. "I think it would be best if I checked this out on my own," he said to the scientist.

"No, no, I'm coming with you," Rodney replied. He was absolutely amazed he sounded as calm as he did in spite of his breath still coming in great, chest expanding gasps. Right about now the little voice in the back of his head should be screaming at him to _run away, run away_, and he would be on his way to his lab to bury himself in his work, but, no. His best friend had been pistol whipped – and he knew that was what Kolya used because the bruise on Carson's cheek was definitely rectangular in shape – _pistol whipped_ in his own damn infirmary because he was trying to protect a patient. A patient who may or may not be human, but a patient nonetheless. And Zelenka liked the guy; _that_ little fact spoke volumes for Rodney, because even though he may be loathe to admit it, and certainly would never admit it _out loud_, he trusted the little Czech's instincts explicitly. He found Lorne staring at him, so he snapped his fingers impatiently. "Time's a wasting. Let's go."

-oOo-

"Oh, dear lord – I hope he doesn't do anything stupid," Carson muttered. "Or get himself shot." His head was really pounding and he decided to lie back down again. Keller helped him settle back.

"Who was with Kolya?" Ronon asked. His voice was dangerously low.

"Ford, Bates, and …." Carson waved his free hand faintly as he fished for the name.

"Pedersen," one of the nurses supplied.

Ronon nodded a thanks to her. "Yup, all Kolya's men." He rubbed his bottom lip briefly with a thumb as he scowled. "How was Sheppard when they took him away?"

"Ford had bashed him in the head a couple times and he was unconscious when they dragged him off," Keller said. "But man, did he put up a fight. Practically threw Ford over a bed, one handed."

"I'd like to have seen that," Carson said, his voice tight from both pain and anger. He was still pretty loopy from the hit and barely remembered Keller being there. "Jenn, could you be a dear and fetch me some Tylenol?"

"Are you sure you don't need something stronger?"

"Aye, I do, but I want to keep my wits right now," he replied through his teeth.

"Gotcha. Be right back."

Carson glanced at the rest of his staff milling about. "Don't you people have work to do?" he snapped.

They all jumped, but the nurse who supplied the name of the third soldier earlier cleared her throat. "Not really, sir," she said, and judging from the murmurs they were going to be sticking close by.

"All right," Carson said with a sigh. He had a feeling just about every single one of them would have gone storming off with Lorne and Rodney if given half a chance. Then Keller was back with a bottle of water and some pills, and he sat up briefly to take them. He settled back down and lowered the pack. "Ready for stitches yet?"

Keller pulled on a pair of gloves quickly and very carefully checked the gash. Carson hissed with every touch. "I'd feel better if that swelling was down more. And it doesn't feel like your cheek is broken." She gently put his hand back in place.

Carson looked at Ronon and saw the big man fidgeting. "Go, lad. I'm fine. And when yae find out where they took him, could you let me know?"

"Sure, doc." Ronon flashed him and Keller both a tight smile and was out the door.

Carson noticed Zelenka for the first time – he was standing back out of the way, chewing on one fingernail. That was a gesture he was used to seeing with Rodney, not him. He waved the man over.

"Yes, Carson?" Zelenka asked.

Carson couldn't help chuckling – the look on the man's face made him think of a scene right out of the Godfather and Zelenka was about to ask Don Corleone for a favor. But he needed the favor from _him_ right now. "You're in charge of all the camera maintenance, correct?" he said softly.

Zelenka nodded, and a slow smile started to light his face.

"How hard would it be for yae to hack into that system?"

Zelenka made a _pfft_ noise and waved a hand. "I could do it in sleep. With blindfold."

"And how hard would it be to set up my computer with a direct link?"

"In less time than it takes for Rodney to make up mind in Chinese restaurant."

Carson grinned and ignored the pain in his cheek. "I ripped the camera out of my office months ago, and Rodney set up the encryption program on my laptop himself." After Rodney's personal laptop, his was probably the second most secure on Atlantis. "Go, be our eyes."

"Gladly," Zelenka said and practically bounded out the door.

"Is that wise?" Keller said to him. "I mean, if Kolya finds out …."

"Screw Kolya," Carson hissed. "When he dragged a patient out of _my_ infirmary, he declared war, and I thoroughly plan on fighting back."

Keller slowly grinned, and when she glanced at the others in the room, she saw them nodding and grinning as well. "I am going to draw the line at you yelling 'freedom' and painting yourself blue, however."

Carson waved and let out a short chuckle. "Yae don't have to worry about that. My arse isn't nearly as photogenic as Mel's." Then he glanced at the rest of his staff. "All right, ya goofy buggers – git. You're hooverin' is making me antsy. I'm _fine_." They reluctantly filed out of the room, and each and every one of them patted him on the foot as they went by.

-oOo-

By the time they got to the elevators, Rodney's breathing had regained a more normal rhythm. Which was good – Lorne kept glancing at him as if he expected the scientist to keel over any second from hyperventilating. But Rodney ignored the looks, and when they stepped into the elevator he set his jaw, adjusted his jacket, and gave his head that little jaw thrusting twitch that the rest of the scientists knew usually preceded one of his rants. But he remained silent and they rode down one level.

The main control room for Atlantis was directly underneath the cafeteria and took up half the space that room did, including the kitchen. Here every system could be monitored, from sewage to heating, water purification to power consumption. Branching off of the main room were the various offices for administration. Elizabeth's office had been dark for some time, but next door Kolya's was bright but empty. The main security suite was next to Kolya's office, and Lorne had taken up residence in a small office in that room. It was also the only room in control that had an additional entrance from the hallway. It led directly into the main surveillance center, and there were few casinos in Vegas that couldn't boast such state-of-the-art equipment. It took four men per shift to cover everything, and they even had access to some scanning technology that supposedly came out of Area 51 and was pretty damn sweet. The armory was actually further down the hall in a room that was heavily fortified, and far enough away from control that if something did blow, it wouldn't affect any internal systems.

When Lorne stormed into control he did it with the intentions of seeing if Kolya was there or not. He didn't see the colonel so proceeded into Security. Rodney was right behind, and he glanced briefly at Peter Grodin, the engineer who pretty much ran the climate controls for Atlantis. The man looked up, a puzzled frown on his face as he watched them charge on by. Once they disappeared through the door to security, he glanced at Chuck over at communications and said, "What do you suppose that's all about?" Chuck just shrugged, but both of them never took their eyes away from security.

"Where is he?" Lorne snapped, and the four men on duty in the surveillance center practically fell out of their seats. "Kolya – where is he?" he clarified.

"He's, he's in the basement, sir," Carpenter replied. The big Marine glanced at the various screens in front of him. "Holding cells."

And just like that all the fight went out of Rodney. Technically Atlantis had three sub-levels, but they all referred to the lowermost one as 'the basement'. That's where the special holding cells were, the ones that Kolya had built in the last year.

And that was where he also kept the vampire.

"Oh, crap," Rodney muttered. His eyes met Lorne's, and even he could see a touch of fear run behind the major's gaze. "This is so not good."

_End Note: Yup, VERY big boo-boo smackin' the doc._


	16. Chapter 16

_A/N: This chapter contains_ my _favorite scene in the whole story ... John, meet the thing in the basement. :)_

Chapter 16

Lorne exited the elevator on the lowermost level of Atlantis, alone. He really didn't blame Rodney for not coming along – hell, the last time the scientist was down on this level was when the power for the holding cells lost its integrity and the vampire got loose. It was the same night his immediate superior officer, Lt. Col. Sumner, and his entire team was killed by the damn thing, and it almost took out Rodney as a midnight snack when he showed up to fix the power grid. Not a good night at all. If Lorne and his team hadn't showed up when they did ….

Lorne shook his head and couldn't quite suppress a shudder. They had to burn Sumner and the others after that for fear they might come back, and he swore he could still smell the scorched flesh whenever he was in the room with the holding cells. At least this time his dread at visiting that room was overpowered by rage.

He rounded the corner and came to a halt – Kolya and his three men were coming back from the cells already. "Ah, Major," Kolya said flatly. "Can I help you with something?"

"With all due respect, sir," Lorne said through his teeth. "What the hell are you doing? You beat Dr. Beckett in front of his staff and dragged Sheppard off …."

"Major." Kolya's voice was soft and low and the tone made Lorne snap immediately to attention. "I don't much care for your tone of voice." He stepped closer to the major and looked down at him. "Are you questioning me?" he asked.

The muscles along Lorne's jaw bunched and he drew in a deep breath. "Yes, sir. I am." Just beyond Kolya he saw Ford, Bates, and Pedersen all tense and place hands on weapons.

Kolya drew his head back, clearly surprised that someone dared speak to back to him. Then he chuckled, but his eyes were hard. "You're overstepping your bounds, Major."

"It's about time I did, sir." Lorne met the colonel's eyes. "What did you do with Sheppard?"

"It is in a cage, where it belongs, and hopefully contemplating the error of its ways." Kolya stepped in even closer. "Which is something you need to be doing, Major. Your judgment has become clouded where it comes to these animals – it's affecting your ability to perform your duty to this facility. Perhaps I should replace you with someone who can follow orders." Lorne started to open his mouth but Kolya cut him off. "Consider your next words carefully, Major."

Lorne kept his gaze locked on Kolya's and he took several breaths before he spoke. "You are the one who's lost his sense of duty to Atlantis. Sir." And for the first time in months Lorne realized his stomach didn't ache, and his chest didn't feel tight.

Kolya's head snapped back, and for a second Lorne was certain he was going to get pistol whipped as well. "I'm disappointed in you, Major." He backed up a step and held out his hand. "You are relieved of duty and confined to your quarters until further notice. Hand over your weapon." Lorne unbuckled the thigh straps to his holster, his eyes never leaving Kolya, then undid the belt and handed it over. Kolya was smiling faintly as he glanced towards Ford. "Lieutenant, please make sure the Major makes it to his room."

"Yes, sir," Ford said and practically bounded forward. He gestured with his P90 for Lorne to move.

Lorne frowned but turned around and started walking, and as the passed one of the security cameras in the hall he glared at it and hoped Rodney saw the whole thing. And had the common sense to get the hell out of control and let Ronon or Carson know what the hell was going on. Damn, he wish he'd had a chance to check on Sheppard.

-oOo-

"Oh, crap," Rodney muttered as he chewed on a fingernail. He glanced at the men in the room and they all had matching expressions of horror and shock on their faces. "This is so not good," he repeated for the second time in the last fifteen minutes. They all nodded back at him. Then Rodney did an abrupt about face and left the room through the door that opened up in the small foyer by the elevators. He didn't want to be anywhere near control when Kolya returned.

He kept repeating _crap_ over and over again under his breath as he rode the elevator up one level and hightailed it back to the infirmary. He got a lot of strange looks in the hall, but he didn't really notice, and when he got to his destination he just charged on back to the exam rooms. Carson was still there, and Keller was just finishing stitching up his cheek. They both took one look at him and their faces dropped.

"Oh, dear lord – what's happened now?" Carson asked and tried to sit up. Keller didn't even try to push him back down.

"There's been a complication," Rodney replied and grimaced crookedly.

-oOo-

John woke up with a killer headache, his cheek pressed against a cold concrete floor, and the smell of something very dead in his nose. He snapped his eyes open, and not quite two feet away was a pale face mirroring his position on the floor. It had spiky gray hair, washed-out, slightly greenish skin, milky eyes, and almost comically red lips. Those lips parted into an obscene parody of a smile. "Ah, little changeling, you are awake," it said, its voice a dry raspy thing that grated on the nerves worse than nails down a chalkboard. The dead eyes closed and it inhaled deeply, and John couldn't tell if it was having a shuddering orgasm or was channeling its own inner Hannibal Lector. "I can almost _taste_ your blood," it sighed.

John was immediately on his ass and scooting backwards as fast as he could go. Only a wall of widely spaced heavy bars separated him from the vampire, which was now rising to its feet as if its skeleton was comprised of flexible cartilage instead of bone. John instantly knew that if the thing couldn't mesmerize him _and_ it couldn't maintain an outwardly human appearance, then that only meant it hadn't fed in a long time. A _very_ long time. Then all thought left him as his back hit a wall and there was a loud snap like the world's biggest bug zapper. He let out a painful yell then arched away and fell onto his side, his skin buzzing from the contact. He rolled over and looked at yet another wall of horizontal bars. Then he cautiously reached out, and this time the shock wasn't too horrible on his fingers from a very brief contact. As he shook his hand he watched in fascination as green energy flared outward from the contact point like tiny, self contained aurora borealis. "Holy shit," he muttered in awe. "They have force fields? Cool."

"Consider yourself lucky, little changeling," the vampire rasped. John turned his head and saw it was standing close to the bars, its nose probably no more than a hair's breadth from the force field separating them. "If it weren't for this …." He touched the field and it didn't seem to affect him. "… Your throat would be mine." He cocked his head and bared his teeth.

"Yeah, lucky me," John muttered. He held a hand to his forehead and felt a sizeable knot there, then he felt the back of his head and found another one, too. His hair was stiff, and when he pulled his hand back there was some thick, nearly dried blood on his fingers. The vampire hissed and John quickly wiped his hand on his leg.

John gave his new setting a quick once over. The cell was probably twenty-by-twenty feet and had a fairly high, solid ceiling. The floor was plain concrete, and the only other thing besides him in the cell was a small drain in the corner. _Gee, nice of them to go all out with the luxuries,_ he thought as he carefully got to his feet. His vision swam and he started to tip, and without thinking he put a hand out to the bars for support. There was another loud snap and he damn near fell back down again. The vampire made an odd, wheezy sound and John realized it was laughing at him as he shook his tingling hand. John sneered at it and staggered over to the drain – after all the liquid they forced in him this morning trying to warm him up he pretty much had no choice in the matter. He turned his back to the vampire to take care of that business, and while he was doing that he could see a camera outside the cell in the darkened room beyond. He couldn't resist – he flipped it the bird after he tucked everything back into his thin scrubs.

And then because he couldn't stand the thought of keeping his back to the vampire, he turned around and found it was still standing there, watching him. It was dressed in scrubs, too, and it was obvious they hadn't been changed in a long time. John found the farthest point he could away from the thing and sat back down on the cold floor. _Yeah, lucky me_, he thought as he drew his knees up and wrapped his arms around them.

-oOo-

Carson sat at his desk while Rodney, Zelenka, and Keller all hovered over his shoulders. Despite the fierce headache he had, he was pretty sure this was the clearest his thoughts had been in a very long time. They were currently checking the video feed from the holding cells, and when Sheppard flipped off the camera Carson couldn't help but smile faintly. _Good, he was still feisty_, he thought as he closed down the link Zelenka had set up. "He's still alive, and so is the woman. Good." Carson picked up his ice pack and held it back to his eye. "Now I wish we could find out about Elizabeth."

"Give me some time and I can get through that encryption Kolya set up," Rodney said as he rocked back and forth on his heels a few times. "Shouldn't take long, really."

"Just be careful," Carson added. "We can't afford having you confined to quarters like the major."

Rodney lifted a hand and grunted. "Oh, please – like that would stop me."

"I'm serious, Rodney." He glanced around the group and wondered how he suddenly became the leader of this little rebellion. He was a healer, not a guerrilla fighter. "We all have to be careful now. Kolya is not an idiot, and I think he proved this morning he's finally gone over the edge."

"You got that right," Keller murmured. She had her arms crossed and was scowling.

"He made very bad mistake hitting you," Zelenka said. "That will not set well, even among his followers, I think. I will keep an ear out today."

"Thank you. You two should be getting back to your labs – don't want to raise any suspicions right now." Carson sighed and readjusted his ice pack. "We should have never let things get this far."

"We didn't have much of a choice, Carson," Rodney said. "None of us really knew what was going on at first, and by the time Kavanagh and his infinite paranoia brought it to Elizabeth's attention it was already too late." Rodney's mouth settled into his disgusted grimace. "Huh. Who'd have thought the first time that spineless little weasel does something that could actually be considered brave and beneficial, he winds up getting killed."

"We don't know that for sure," Keller said. "He was discharged from the Project because of medical reasons."

Rodney's hand came up and he nodded spastically. "Yeah, 'death' is a medical reason." When Carson started to open his mouth, Rodney interrupted. "Oh, please – I think we can all safely assume his body is feeding the fish somewhere off the north end of the island. Unless _you_ saw him leave by air or boat."

Carson shook his head sadly.

"Then there was Col. Sumner and his men," Zelenka added softly. "And the two from bio – Abrams and Gaul. We all know they were listed as casualties from 'lab accidents', when they were most likely fed to …." He let the sentence trail off as he pushed up his glasses. "Blbina. It is never good when those in control of the guns control the facts."

"Well, that will be changing. Soon." Carson said quietly.

They all jumped when Ronon came charging into the office. "You've heard?" he asked anxiously. When he got a bunch of quiet nods in return he punched the nearest wall. "Shit!" He ran his hands over his dreds and forced his breathing down to a normal level. "Kolya hasn't posted guards on him – yet – and I can tell you, it's pissed quite a few of the enlisted men off."

"This may work to our advantage," Rodney muttered, some of the excited gleam returning to his eyes.

"Yes," Carson said. "But I cannot stress enough the need for caution. Please, people – there's been enough death all ready. Right now I think we need to focus on _saving_ a few lives." He looked at Ronon. "I hate to ask, but is there any way to keep an eye on Dr. Chaya without raising suspicion?"

Ronon slowly smiled. "Oh, yeah. I can arrange something, no problem."

"Good." Carson looked over his merry little band – and that was how he saw them right then, a bunch of rogues banded together to fight the evil sheriff – and smiled tiredly as he felt a little flutter of hope. "Now go. My noggin' is killing me and I have a feeling Dr. Keller is going to tell me to go rest."

"Yup," was all she said.

And as the group filed out, Carson could see hope in their eyes as well.

_End Note: That pesky little insect is back. Where's my gorram shoe? Ah... WHAP WHAP WHAP WHAP. Crap, missed it._


	17. Chapter 17

_A/N: And now for a brief interlude with the other players in this GORRAM FRAKKIN' NOVEL! Jeez..._

Chapter 17

Kolya was back in his office when Chaya found him. He looked up from his work after a moment and wasn't at all surprised she was angry. "Tatiana, dear – you seem upset."

"You didn't hurt it, did you?" she asked sharply.

"No, it is fine, just simply detained for its own safety." Kolya leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands over his stomach. "Which, I might add, would not have been necessary if you had stayed away from it like you were _supposed_ to."

Chaya crossed her arms and lowered her gaze. "It was in a public area. You said nothing …."

"I told you to _stay_ _away_." His voice rose and Chaya flinched away. "Two days. Can you control yourself for two days?"

Her eyes narrowed and she didn't reply right away. "It called me cold, Acastus. I am not cold." When he openly laughed she uncrossed her arms and clenched her fists by her side. "It isn't funny."

"Actually, it is," Kolya said. "You are cold – that is why you were the perfect choice for this project. I knew I could get unbiased results from you, and you have no problem seeing these things for the animals that they are, not the 'people' others mistake them for." He watched the anger leach from her features. "Now, go get the lab on level seven ready – I understand we may actually have clear skies the first night of the full moon." He pushed away from his desk and stood.

"Clouds have never made a difference with these things before," she replied. "But it would be nice for a change." She crossed her arms and pouted. "I hate the weather here. It is … depressing."

Kolya took her by the elbow and led her to the door. "Yes. Well, until the scientists here discover some way to control the weather, I am afraid you'll have to suffer like the rest of us." He cradled her face in his hands and kissed her lightly on the forehead. "Now, go, and be a good girl."

Chaya looked up at him through her eyelashes and nuzzled the palm of his hand. When she flicked her tongue briefly across the base of his thumb she heard him draw in a short breath and smiled. "I always am," she purred as she backed away. The smile stayed on her face as she walked through control, and she didn't even notice that everyone seemed inordinately busy.

Kolya noticed, however, and frowned briefly. They had been acting like this since he came back after relieving the major of his duty, and he did not like it at all. It just struck him as terribly immature. They were professionals, they should fully understand that if someone isn't doing their job properly, they should not be doing it at all. Simple concept, and popularity should have absolutely nothing to do with it. If they continued in this fashion, he would have to say something. But for now he was too busy for this childish crap. He closed his door and returned to his work.

Shortly after Chaya left and Kolya's door closed, Chuck couldn't hold back any longer. "God damn – where's a stake when you need one?" he muttered. That brought a few nervous laughs from the other techs present.

All except Grodin. He was frowning as he fired off a quick encrypted e-mail to Zelenka. _Vampira will have wolfman in glass lab in two nights._ Then he quickly erased all traces of the correspondence and went back to his diagnostic program for the green house's climate controls. It had been running a little warm in there lately, and he hadn't been able to figure out why.

-oOo-

For the remainder of that day the atmosphere in the rest of Atlantis could easily be described as _cool_. Conversations were done in soft tones in the cafeteria, and Lorne's absence was definitely noticed. Carson himself made a point to not miss lunch or dinner. As a matter of fact, he sat at the table closest to the end of the line, so when people turned around with their trays he and his left cheek were going to be the first thing they saw. That was actually Rodney's idea. Kolya wasn't the only one who knew how to manipulate people.

Rodney was just more blatant and less tactful about it.

He was sitting with Carson at the moment and thoroughly enjoying the double-takes and nearly dropped trays. Word had gotten around about what had happened to the doctor, but apparently it wasn't believed until they saw the proof for themselves. And with the exception of a few Marines, the people walked on by with the same expression on their faces: close lipped anger. Carson squirmed a little at first, but as more people saw the evidence of Kolya's instability, and the more Rodney just beamed in triumph, the more he relaxed. "See, told you this would work better than waving a scalpel around and giving a rousing speech in a kilt," Rodney said around a maniacal grin and a bite of chicken kiev. "And that purple around your eye could be considered a darker shade of blue."

Carson grimaced. "Enough with the Braveheart analogies," he said as he sipped his coffee. "Jenn should be smacked for repeating that to you." He set his cup back down and tackled his own meal. He was surprised he was actually hungry for a change.

Rodney just happily chewed away. "Um, do you even have a kilt here?"

"Settle," Carson growled. But he was fighting his own smile.

Ronon and Zelenka came in a moment later, and soon they were sitting down next to them. Zelenka pushed his glasses up, and as he unwrapped his silverware he said very quietly, "I've been told by little birdie that Sheppard will be taken to the astronomy lab on level seven in two nights."

"That is the first night of the full moon," Ronon said. "Psycho Barbie is up there right now."

"Crap," Carson muttered and sat his fork down. "Any chance we'll be able to get him free before then?"

"Hard to say," Ronon replied and leaned forward on his elbows. "Ford's been put in charge of the security detail, and I know he'll pick men loyal to Kolya." He ate in silence for a moment. "We could intercept when they take him up, but there could be casualties."

"No, God no. I definitely don't want that." Carson sighed and glanced between Rodney and Zelenka. "Were yae able to find out what he's done with Elizabeth?" he asked in a whisper.

Rodney nodded spastically. "She is alive, but he's taken the computer out of her room."

"I think he's kept her drugged," Zelenka added. "She did not look … well." He lifted a hand and waved it by his head. "Very zhubnout – thin, and, and …."

"Spacey," Rodney supplied. "She didn't sound drugged the few times I've spoken to her."

"I imagine it's surprising how coherent one can be with a gun pressed to your head," Zelenka added under his breath. The little Czech looked absolutely devastated – they all knew he had an unrequited thing for her. They ate in silence for a moment after that, and it was Zelenka who broke the tension. "The woman they are holding in the brig seems unharmed." Atlantis didn't really have a 'brig' – that is what they called the four secure observation rooms on the second sub-level. They were originally designed as quarantine rooms with airlocks and extra thick walls, but Kolya found a new use for them.

Rodney looked at Ronon, his mouth open for a moment before he spoke. "Why didn't you tell me she was so hot? Holy crap."

Ronon smirked. "McKay, you wouldn't last two seconds with her before she'd break every bone in your body." He attacked his chicken and quickly chopped it into a half dozen bites with his fork. He speared one and held it up. "You would look like this," he said and waggled it before he stuck it in his mouth.

Rodney gulped. "Oh." His attention focused on his own food. "She, um, didn't look that tough."

"We'll get her out, too," Carson said. "And any other 'specimens' that woman may have in her lab." Rodney started to open his mouth but Carson scooped up some pudding and said, "So help me, if you say 'freedom' I will be flingin' this at you."

"Now that would be a sorry waste of perfectly good pudding," Rodney said with a smirk. Then that suddenly disappeared as he was distracted by the doors to the cafeteria opening. Everyone at the table turned that way and saw Lorne enter with Bates as an armed escort.

Lorne calmly got in line, he and Bates both got dinner, and as he turned to go to a table he did pause briefly and his mouth settled into that tight grimace. But he walked past their table calmly and nodded to them. "Doc," he said. Bates cleared his throat.

"Major," Carson replied with a nod of his own. He watched as the two men went to an empty table and sat across from each other. When he turned back around he saw Rodney's eyes were practically glittering.

"Oh, he just screwed up again," Rodney said. "What does Col. Cuckoo think he's doing? Playing checkers?"

Zelenka was even smirking. "He should have let the major come alone, not under armed guard. He's clearly mistaking a, a Bishop for a pawn." He chuckled. "The major is too well liked for this."

"Yeah," Ronon said. He glanced around the room quickly and saw a lot of irate glares from the few off-duty enlisted men he could see. "Not smooth at all."

Carson had to clamp down on his lips to keep from smiling – it pulled to much at his stitches for comfort. "Gentlemen, this is looking better and better. Ah, bloidy hell – screw it." He picked up his coffee and made a very quiet toast. "Freedom."

They all lifted their cups in return. "Freedom," they echoed just as softly.

_End Note: My, um, apologies for that opening scene. If it's any consolation, I kinda squicked_ myself _out..._


	18. Chapter 18

_A/N: And now for probably my favorite chapter..._

Chapter 18

John didn't know how long he'd been in the cell. Might have been a day, might have been less. He didn't have his watch, there wasn't a clock anywhere to be seen, and he was three quarters loopy from lack of sleep, thirst, and hunger. Nobody had come to check on him, and his only companion had been the vampire. It hadn't moved from its spot by the bars, and it was _still_ just standing there, staring at him. He didn't dare sleep while still in its presence – the first time he stretched out on the cold floor and dozed off he could feel the vampire trying to get into his head, and that snapped him awake immediately. So he spent hours pacing the cell, trying to keep himself awake. When he could no longer do that because he was so shaky, he sat down in a corner as close as he could to the force field, his knees drawn up and his arms resting on top. And a dozen times he followed the same routine afterward; first his head would droop until it was resting on his forearms, and when he'd start to doze off he'd tip into the force field. That worked better than a bucket of cold water in the face.

And every time it happened, the damn vampire would laugh. It wasn't much of a laugh, just a dry raspy sound that was barely heard, but it was a laugh nonetheless.

He really hated the undead.

John had his head sitting on his forearms, and he wasn't even aware he had nodded off until his shoulder hit that damn force field. "Shit!" he yelled as he pulled away. Then he heard that damn wheezy chuckle. "Oh, will you _shut the HELL UP!!_" he yelled so loud his own throat hurt and the veins and cords of his neck stood out. He settled back into his cramped, ass numbing position.

"You are amusing, changeling," the vampire rasped.

"_Fuck you_!" John bellowed back.

"Why do you continue to fight me? What I have to offer is far more pleasant than anything these … humans have planned for you. Let me set you free. Give in, it is only a matter of time." He bared his teeth, and for a second his black tongue flicked out across his ivory fangs. "I can ease your suffering."

John was tired enough he found himself actually _listening_. He started to get to his feet, but when he lost his balance and fell into the force field, again, that snapped him out of the light trance. He bellowed, and cussed, and generally threw a tantrum until his blood was pumping and his heart was pounding. And the vampire laughed. God, he _really_ hated the fucking undead. He sat back down and glared at the thing.

There was the sound of a heavy door sliding open somewhere beyond the cells. John instantly shot to his feet and only swayed a little. His pulse was hammering in his temples as he watched Kolya and his men enter, all of them deliberately averting their gaze from the vampire. It turned its head and hissed faintly but did not move.

Kolya stopped in front of John's cell, a faintly amused smile barely lighting his face. "Were you able to get some rest?" he asked lightly.

John was as far away from the colonel as he could get and pacing. He rubbed his mouth as he went three steps, turned, went three steps. "Oh, like you really give a shit," he said as he put his hands on his hips. He forced himself to stand still, but the adrenaline that was pumping from pure rage had him moving again a second later. Three steps, turn, three steps, turn. And Kolya just watched him with that damn smirk on his face. If only that damn force field wasn't between him and that asshole ...

His thoughts must have flitted across his face because Kolya chuckled. "You seem tense," he said rather condescendingly as he deliberately stepped closer to the bars.

"Could be the present company," John snarled back . He twitched his chin towards the vampire. "Chuckles, there – not so much." That made the smug fucker's smile falter. John stopped and held his arms out. "So, c'mon, damn it! Do your worst. I'm sick of this waiting shit," he yelled.

"Yes, do get on with it," the vampire rasped quietly. "You play with your victims as much as we do. Perhaps even more so. It is truly pathetic."

Kolya's amusement disappeared completely, and the muscles along his jaw bunched.

"He does have a point," John said through his teeth, and when he saw Kolya frown he couldn't help smiling smugly. "What, you been taking lessons?"

"Silence," Kolya gritted out.

The vampire smiled, but a second later his face crumpled and took on a parody of pain. When it spoke its voice wasn't the dry, sandpapery tone from earlier. It was younger, and oh, so frail and _human_. "Why do you forsake me so, father?"

John thought it was just more vampire mind games until he felt the wave of grief mixed with fury come off the colonel. He looked at the man and saw his mask was completely gone, and the raw emotions that showed were almost too much to bear.

"Please, don't leave me in here," the vampire said again, the hurt and pleading in its voice completely at odds with its horrible appearance. "Let me out. _Please._"

Kolya snapped. "You are _not_ my son!" he yelled at the vampire, his control slipping. "Michael … is … _dead_!"

"Father, you _hurt_ me," Michael said in his former voice. Then the lips drew back and he started laughing in that dry, undead way that reminded John of scuffing his feet through fall leaves.

"Drop the shield," Kolya whispered. When one of his men balked he repeated, "_Drop the shield!_" The green disappeared in a flash and Kolya had his sidearm in his hand. He emptied the Beretta's clip into Michael in a matter of seconds. The vampire rocked with every shot but didn't make a move to attack or retreat, then it slowly toppled backwards and collapsed in a boneless heap, dead eyes staring upwards and thick brackish blood oozing out of its wounds. The smell of rot filled the air.

And still it laughed.

The second the shield lowered John dashed forward, but drowned out by the nine mil were two softer discharges. The two tranquilizer darts caught John in the stomach and he doubled over as his hands found the bars. He backed up and pulled them out immediately, but whatever they used this time worked much faster. His knees hit the concrete, hard, and he sat down on his heels like he was back at Ronon's Aikido class. He stayed like that, too, his mouth open in a WTF expression before another dart hit him and the door to the cell slid open. This stuff made him feel completely numb as he fumbled that last dart out of his thigh, and he was fully aware of Kolya coming in and standing over him. John grinned crookedly up at the colonel as he swayed but still remained upright. "Got his looks from Mom, huh?" he barely slurred out. He saw Kolya backhand the gun at him but didn't feel a thing before everything exploded in white.

-oOo-

This time when John came to his left cheek was pressed against slightly warmer tile instead of concrete. Not much of an improvement. But everything smelled sterile, and that was much better than the sickeningly sweet, cloying odor of decay any day. He was still numb, and when he tried to open his right eye, he couldn't. So he lifted his head a little and opened his left eye, and as he got his right forearm under him and braced against the floor the first thing he saw was a little puddle of drool. He immediately felt his mouth with his left hand. Yup, his cheek was even soaked. As he wiped that away he decided he felt like he'd been hit with a full body dose of Novocain, and it wasn't as pleasant as it sounded.

John lifted his head and took stock of his new surroundings. Looked like a private hospital room all done in ceramic tile. There was a single hospital style bed, a fluorescent light on the wall above it, ports for oxygen – yup, just like a hospital room. And in the corner was a stainless steel sink and toilet. John whimpered at the sight. He tried to get to his feet, but his legs just wouldn't cooperate, so he wound up crawling over to them. He used the toilet for leverage and pulled himself up to the sink. A second later he had the water on and had his face under the stream. He drank until he practically burbled, and by the time his thirst was satiated his legs were starting to work again. But that also meant all the little aches and pains were starting to voice their opinions as well.

He shut the water off, and with hands still braced on the sink John finally looked at his reflection in the polished steel mirror on the wall. His right eye and cheek were swollen and purple, and on his forehead was another bruise as well. There were actually some hand towels and washcloths stocked in a small shelf by the sink, so he grabbed a towel and soaked it in cold water. He hissed when he held it to his eye and cheek, but damn that felt good.

John turned to his right to see what the rest of the room looked like and froze. The entire wall by the door was a floor to ceiling window that looked out into a wide hallway, and the door was basically a frosted glass panel in a heavy frame with a handle. And across from his new cell was another room just like his.

And its occupant was watching him calmly, her head slightly cocked to one side.

John staggered over to the window and put a hand on it to steady himself. The woman had flawless café au lait skin and bronze hair, and her eyes were the color of old pennies. She wore no make-up but she was still almost too beautiful to be real. She was also wearing scrubs, and what he could see of her arms showed definition and strength in those graceful limbs. She smiled at him and bowed her head briefly, and even though they were separated by fifteen feet and two layers of very thick glass he could feel the cool, quiet power radiating from her.

"You're … you're Sidhe," he whispered, his breath briefly fogging the glass. _Holy crap – Kolya captured a fucking Faerie!_ he thought to himself, his mouth hanging slightly open. _Oh, man, is that going to piss off her clan._ Then he felt a faint flutter in his mind, and a second later he heard her voice in his head.

_Yes, it is._

John sat down heavily on the floor. She smiled again and he heard her musical laughter flutter through his head a second later.

_End Note: Author stands on tippy toes and peers out into smoke a rubble left by Kolya Bomb. "Um, hello? Hellooooooooo?"_


	19. Chapter 19

_A/N: Ah, sufficiently recovered from the Kolya bomb? Good, good..._

Chapter 19

Carson was going over John's records again and so deep in concentration he didn't hear Rodney and Zelenka enter his office. Then he looked up and let out a startled yelp. "Oh, dear God. Would yae please knock?"

"Sorry," Rodney said, and it came out almost sounding like he said _sore-ee_. He and Zelenka both looked vaguely ill as they stood there.

"What's happened?" Carson asked, his pulse suddenly pounding in his cheek.

"Have you checked the video feed lately?" Zelenka asked quietly.

"No," Carson replied. His pulse ratcheted up a notch. "I've been occupied."

Rodney closed the door and Zelenka came over to Carson's side of the desk. "There is something you need to hear." He gestured at the computer and Carson turned it to face him. He called up the link, and with a few deft strokes called up a file, adjusted the volume, and hit play. He stood back and crossed his arms as Carson listened.

After the short file ended, Carson leaned back heavily in his chair. "Oh, dear lord," he muttered quietly and rubbed his mouth. When he looked up at his two friends, he felt about as ill as they looked.

"Explains a lot, doesn't it?" Rodney said.

"Aye, it does." Carson deleted the file. "I wonder if the major knows?" he said softly.

Rodney and Zelenka both shrugged and shook their heads.

Then Carson began flipping through feeds until he found where Sheppard had been dragged off to. The man was currently just lying sprawled on the floor of one of the quarantine rooms and seemed unhurt. Good – at least now he finally had access to water. He closed the link down and called his work up again.

Rodney sat down in the chair in front of his desk. His hand came up and fluttered a moment before he spoke. "What I can't understand for the life of me is _why_ is he keeping him here? Is he, what, trying to find a cure for him? Or is it just another new, sadistic facet to his already warped psyche, which I really could have done without witnessing, by the way."

"Where I grew up, we knew about wampyrs," Zelenka said quietly. "There is no cure, except beheading and fire."

"Then he's a sick bastard, plain and simple," Rodney said.

Carson closed his eyes briefly, and all he could see was Kolya emptying the gun into the vampire. Into Michael. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph – having names for them just made it infinitely _worse_. "We're going to have to do something about him," he said softly.

"Kolya?" Zelenka said. "We already are."

"No. Michael."

Rodney's head snapped up, and a second later he was on his feet. "Oh, no no no no no no no. We can't free him. That's … that's, oh that's a really bad idea." His hand went to his throat without him even thinking about it.

"I'm not talking about freeing him," Carson replied tiredly. Then he decided that yes, what he had in mind would free him in another sense. "We have to kill him."

"Oh," Rodney said in a very small voice and swallowed. He glanced at Zelenka and saw him nodding solemnly.

"Very wise," was all Zelenka said.

Rodney stared at Carson with his mouth hanging slightly open. That his friend was willingly contemplating killing _something_ – granted yes, it was a blood sucking undead monster from hell, but still – that scared the crap out of him, big time. They needed to get this over and done with before the Carson he knew was lost forever.

-oOo-

Kolya sat in the mess and ate his dinner, alone, and as he contemplated his actions over the past few days he came to the conclusion he had made some grievous errors. The enlisted men he could see were openly ignoring him. He underestimated the major's popularity, it seemed. He would have to rescind the order to confine him to his quarters, but he was not about to reinstate him. He tapped his ear piece and relayed the command to let the major out on his own recognizance. That should keep some of the peace with his enlisted men.

Allowing the Pretender loose was, he had to admit, very foolish. It proved to be more adept at social interaction than he ever expected, and the friends it made in that brief time were some of the more powerful people here on Atlantis. It was a smart creature, that was for sure, and he knew it was somehow responsible for the seditious actions he could see growing among the scientists. He had hoped placing it in the holding cell for twenty-four hours would have humbled it some, but all it did was make it, and the scientists, more defiant. He still could not believe it actually got free and out of the building – but then, part of that was the major's fault for being lax. It was definitely the most intriguing specimen to date since the female.

Kolya smiled into his coffee cup. Ah, yes, the female. He had refrained from any physical contact with it, but that may have to change. It was immune so far to the drugs they had slipped into its food, but perhaps one of the new weapons would work on it. Stun it, strap it to a table, and let Tatiana get her samples. He set his cup down, the smile still on his face. Yes, that would work. Until then he would keep it in the quarantine room and hoped that it seeing another of its kind just as trapped and hopeless would weaken some of its own defiance.

Kolya stood and picked up his tray, and as he walked over to the dish line he glanced up in the back corner and saw the big hunter, Ronon, watching him openly. Hostilely. The woman doctor was with him, her slender back facing him. He did not like the man's attitude – he had no respect for authority, that one. But he was skilled and useful for the time being.

But the doctor …. He sighed as he sat his tray on the conveyor belt. She and Beckett were becoming too belligerent for their own good. He was going to have to do something about them before it got out of hand. Apparently taking Beckett down didn't knock any common sense back into the man. He would have to rectify that error as well. Too bad – the man was a very brilliant scientist as well as a competent doctor. But he did have an idea in mind, and as he left the mess his smile returned.

-oOo-

Ronon watched Kolya leave and stabbed his Swiss steak so hard he actually bent his fork. Keller jumped and almost inhaled her water. "Uh, Ronon? It's already dead," she said between coughs.

Ronon looked at her, then looked down. He just grunted, bent his fork straight again, and kept eating.

"Okay," Keller murmured. "Either you're channeling your inner-Neanderthal a little more than normal this evening or something is bothering you."

Ronon looked up and blinked, then he grunted again and grinned. His grin got even broader when she picked up a piece of lettuce and threw it at him.

"Jerk," she said, but there was no anger in her statement.

"Been distracted," he said and tossed the lettuce back at her. He attacked his meal with a little more restraint. He'd heard Sheppard had been moved out of the holding cells, but he was now in a more secure area. He didn't know if Lorne knew yet or not, and he wished he could get word to the major – the guards at his door weren't letting anyone even _pause_ in the hallway. It was going to make getting John out even more difficult, and it was starting to look like they'd have to break him out in transit if they were going to do it. And that was going to be messy.

"I've noticed," Keller said and smirked. "Your grunts have had more syllables than your words tonight. I didn't realize you had such a nuance with them." That earned her a more relaxed, genuine smile. "You're worried about Lorne."

"Yeah." Ronon said. "And the new guy. They moved him to the brig."

"Oh. That's good, isn't it?"

"Yes and no." Ronon was about to say more, but he looked up just then and his eyebrows rose. "Holy shit," he rumbled. Curious, Keller turned around and saw Lorne coming into the cafeteria. Alone. A few minutes later he was sitting down with them. "How the hell did you get out?" Ronon asked.

Lorne shrugged. "Bates unlocked my door, stuck his head in, said I was free to go. No explanation or anything." The tight lipped frown settled in place with too much ease. "Quite frankly, it scares the shit out of me." He unwrapped his silverware. "So, what's happened in the last day?" As Ronon updated him he ate slowly. He shared the same opinion of Sheppard's move – it could make things really complicated. He turned to Keller. "How's the doc doing? That's quite the shiner he's sporting."

"He's doing good, except Rodney is driving him crazy with Braveheart analogies."

"Huh." Lorne fixed her with concerned look. "And how are you doing?"

"Okay," she said and offered him a little smile. "Kolya makes me nervous as hell, but that can be said for three-quarters of Atlantis right now."

"I hear ya," Lorne replied. He was pretty sure that Kolya suspected something was up – he had to by now. And that added a whole new level paranoia he really didn't want or need. "Well, we all knew this wasn't going to be a fun ride once it started."

"Yup," Ronon replied. Then a slow smile lit his face. "But it's going to be worth it."

Lorne matched Ronon's smile. "Oh, yeah."

-oOo-

_I am so sorry if I startled you. You do not know how _wonderful_ it is to have someone who can hear me again,_ the woman said in John's mind and smiled in relief.

"Uh, yeah," John said out loud.

_I am Teyla Emmagen,_ she said and gave her head a brief bow.

"Um, John. John Sheppard."

Teyla's smile took on an amused cast. _You do not have to answer me out loud. I assure you, I can hear you fine._

_Um, sorry,_ John thought very carefully.

Teyla winced. _You do not need to shout, either._

John smiled sheepishly._ Um, sorry, out of practice_. He hadn't spoken to anyone like this in, wow – since his mother. Almost thirty-five years.

_Ah, much better, John Sheppard. It is a pleasure to meet you._ Teyla cocked her head and regarded him. _Your aura is … very different. I am unfamiliar with your clan._

_Onca, House Nahuel,_ John replied as he carefully got to his feet again. His ass hurt now on top of everything else, and it was mildly embarrassing.

Teyla's eyebrows rose. _Oh,_ she replied, and the surprise was very clear along the link as well as on her face. _I did not realize …. Forgive me._ She dipped her head again, her eyes lowered, and offered him a graceful curtsey.

_Don't,_ John thought and frowned.

Teyla lifted her eyes and cocked her head. _But your house - you are of royal bloodline, are you not? _

_I am an outcast,_ John replied disgustedly and turned away from her. He went over to the bed and sat down carefully. _An exile. I didn't share the same views as my father did about humans, and that pissed him off big time._ He frowned tightly as he unfolded the towel and waved it a few times to cool it back down again, then he refolded it and held it back to his eye. _So just … don't. Okay? I'm not a part of that bullshit anymore._

_All right,_ Teyla replied carefully as she straightened back up and tactfully changed the subject. _Where did the humans capture you?_ she asked.

_Montana,_ John replied. Even though it was a stiff hospital mattress, it felt heavenly and he wanted nothing more than to just tip over he was so exhausted.

_That is Ursus Clan territory, is it not?_

_Ursus and Lupus,_ John replied. _Western part is neutral ground. I stay out of the politics, they let me be._

_I see._ Teyla settled gracefully into a cross-legged position.

John gave his chin a little lift. _Um, no offense, but what clan are you? All the Sidhe I've ever seen are tall, willowy, disgustingly pale things._

Teyla smiled, and there was nothing but mild amusement in the expression. _I am of the Sekhmet, House Athos – we are a warrior clan originally from Egypt. But our numbers now are few._

_Oh,_ John thought, and his eyebrows reflected his internal dialogue. _You're a long ways from home._

Now Teyla looked even more amused. _I was living in Las Vegas when they captured me._

_Let me guess, you were working at the Luxor._ When he saw the amused smile turn into a mildly annoyed frown he back pedaled. _Um, sorry, didn't mean to insult your…._

The corner of Teyla's mouth rose a fraction. _I was part of the security force for the resort._

John let out a relieved breath and grinned sheepishly. _Bet your absence was noted._

_I am sure it was._ She cocked her head again. _And yours?_

_No._ John lowered his head and cooled the towel down again. He found he could actually open his right eye a little, now, and as he put the cold compress back in place he kept his gaze on the floor.

_I am sorry,_ Teyla replied. John just waved off-handedly. _They will be bringing the evening meal in a few hours. If you wish to get some rest I will wake you when it arrives._

"Thanks – I appreciate that," John said out loud. He lifted his head and gave her a faint smile, then he settled back with a soft groan. The paper covering under the stiff pillowcase crinkled as he got comfortable, but it didn't stop him from sighing. The first few times he started to doze off he'd have a full body flinch that would jerk him back awake, but eventually he did manage to drift off.

And he had to fight to wake up when Teyla called to him awhile later. A guard brought one tray, which he sat on the table that was in the short hallway between the rooms, and when he left a moment later only her door unlocked. Yeah, it didn't surprise him. Teyla tried to open his door, but it had one hell of a seal, and their combined strength didn't budge it. A few swings with a chair didn't leave a mark, either. She held her hand to his window, an apologetic smile on her fine features, and John touched his palm to the glass as well. He could feel the frustration and disappointment radiating off of her. _Thanks for trying,_ he said. He drank some more water then went back to bed, his back to the glass.

_End Note: Jeez, John just can't catch a break, can he? If you're still unsure what he is, see_ panthera onca


	20. Chapter 20

_A/N: Ah, the players are starting to move into position. But what' this? A kaboom? Crap._

Chapter 20

The next thirty-six hours on Atlantis were insane. A small explosion in an engineering lab on sub-level two sent six people to the infirmary, two with serious injuries due to flying shrapnel. Beckett and Keller were both in surgery until nearly supper time with those cases, and Rodney and Zelenka were kept busy with damage assessment and repairs. The explosion took out the power for that section of the level as well, and repair crews worked well into the wee hours of the morning to get everything up and running again. Since Lorne didn't have any assigned duties he helped with clean-up and what repairs he could, and Ronon and quite a few of the enlisted men were right with him. They were a pretty smelly, filthy group by the time they got the area inhabitable again. When they all traipsed into the mess for dinner before cleaning up, Doris, with ladle in hand, almost made them sit out on the balcony. Didn't matter that it was raining cougars and timber wolves at the moment, she just about marched them on out to the deck. But then Keller showed up and made them all promise to move a table back as far from everyone as possible (the smell of burnt insulation and plastic clung to the bunch like a cloud), and directly underneath the intake vent.

Doris was so tickled she allowed the guys through for seconds.

Rodney, Zelenka, and Grodin worked straight through until morning. Lorne swung by at one point with coffee and sandwiches, and the three ate while still glued to computers and consoles. Apparently what blew wasn't the main project in that lab, but some secondary thing, and the three were trying to stabilize the main whatever it was to keep it from going as well. Lorne left the lab as quietly as possible. If he was still in a position of authority, he would have ordered that wing evacuated for the time being, but Ford was now the go to guy and it was his responsibility. But nevertheless, he still might have one of the enlisted men put a bug in the kid's ear.

So for one day, unfortunately, the Great Atlantis Uprising had to be put on hold.

-oOo-

John slept for nearly fifteen hours straight, and he would have slept a little longer if his stomach hadn't have woken him up. The cramps were awful, but drinking a bunch of water helped. And they _still_ weren't as bad as dry heaves. He did a quick clean up at the sink, and Teyla didn't speak to him until he turned around and faced her. She was sitting cross-legged in front of the window again, and she smiled warmly at him.

_Your eye is looking much better._

John's hand went to that cheek – he could open his right eye completely now, but his cheek throbbed with every heartbeat. _Yeah, but I suspect my cheekbone may be cracked. Hurts like a mother._

Teyla closed her eyes, and John nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt what he swore were ghostly fingers brush his cheek. Then Teyla opened her eyes, and they were practically shining like _new_ pennies. _I am afraid you are correct._

"Huh," John grunted. He honestly hadn't spent much time around the Sidhe and had no real idea of what they could or could not do. Oh, he'd met a few at his father's house when they'd visited for some summit or territorial posturing hoopla. All he really remembered was a lot of tall, pale, disgustingly attractive people who didn't have time for little boys. His mother was part Sidhe – not much, maybe a quarter at most – but she died when he was quite young, and he never got to know her. _Can all of your kind do that?_ he asked out of pure curiosity.

_It is a skill that comes with age,_ she replied. Then she lifted one eyebrow and lowered her head a fraction.

John knew better than to touch _that_ subject. He held up his hands in mock surrender, but as he got up to the window he placed them both on the glass and frowned faintly. There were two untouched trays of food on the table just a little ways down the hall. Breakfast and lunch, it seemed. _Oh, hey. You didn't have to …._

_I do not require as much sustenance as the humans seem to think I do,_ she replied. _Especially since I have been inactive. One meal a day will suffice._

Her mental tone was fairly stern and John knew she wouldn't take any flap from him. _Well, I am touched by the show of defiance. Thank you._ He nodded at her.

Teyla lowered her eyes and nodded back as well.

Then John's gut gurgled and he leaned forward to rest his forehead against the glass. "Yeah, Kolya – I was a bad boy. Send me to bed without dinner. I get it already," he mumbled to himself. He decided he would kill for a Powerbar right then. Wonder where Zelenka was?

_These humans are animals._

John looked up and saw the scowl on Teyla's face. "Eh, they're not _all_ bad. There are a few good ones out there," he said softly. He settled down carefully into a cross-legged position as well. _The two docs are all right, so's the major and the little Czech. And once you get past the ego, McKay's pretty good, too._ The corner of his mouth crooked up on the left – his right cheek hurt too much to grin fully. _Hell, even the big guy is okay once you smack him around a little._

Teyla's eyebrows drew down a fraction. _He _was_ a formidable opponent. With his size, strength, and speed, I suspect he may have some Pretender in his bloodline._

John blinked, and drew his head back a fraction. "Huh," he muttered. _I never thought of that. Holy crap. Makes sense – the heavy forehead, the size. Yeah, I can see it._ He grinned but then added a mental _ow_ as he held a hand to his cheek. _You thinking, what – ogre or troll?_

Teyla frowned and cocked her head. _Ogre, I think. Yes. But far enough removed that the ugliness has bred out of the line._

"Ow," John said out loud this time and clamped down on an even bigger grin. And because he couldn't help himself, thought, _You think he's cute._ When she lowered her head and shrugged, he chuckled. _Ah, you do!_

_He has some … appeal,_ she thought. Then she tucked her hair behind one ear and John blinked in surprise.

_You had your ears altered._

_And you have not._

John's hand went from his cheek to his ear and he shrugged. _Yeah, well, it was a matter of pride with the old man. By the time I struck out on my own, I didn't really give a crap anymore._

Teyla nodded. _All of our people have it done now at a very young age. I was older when I had mine rounded, and it was uncomfortable._ She grimaced. _I do not recommend it._

_Doubt I'll get a chance,_ he thought and tried really hard to keep it to himself. But she must have caught it because she suddenly looked concerned. _Kolya thinks I'm a _cursed_ lycanthrope – plans on doing something to me first night of the full moon. _He gave a mild shrug like it was nothing.

_John, that is tonight._ Teyla's eyes were wide with alarm.

"Oh, fuck," he muttered out loud and rubbed his mouth. He'd lost track of more time than he realized. He was on his feet and pacing before he even knew he was doing it, and when he looked out across the way he saw Teyla was on her feet as well. He had a feeling his eyes were a lot wider than hers right now. "Okay, guys, if you're going to get me out, now's the time to do it," he muttered. Then he stopped cold. "Oh, crap." He had a sick feeling in pit of his empty stomach that something happened to them. "Oh, crap," he repeated and resumed his pacing. It was a good thing his stomach was empty, or he'd be puking again.

-oOo-

They came for him about three hours after dinner. He was lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling, his right foot jigging nervously, when he heard the door unlock. Teyla gave him a warning, and the second the door opened he rolled off the bed. One tranquilizer dart impacted with the mattress where his left thigh was a moment before, and the other ricocheted harmlessly off the wall. John stayed crouched until Teyla gave him the signal, then he shot to his feet and flipped the mattress into the two guards just coming into the room. The first man barely got his arms up before the awkward mass caught him and knocked him into the man behind. He went down, but the second man only staggered back into the hallway.

John landed on the mattress a second later and punched the man, hard, before he could recover. His head snapped back against the tile floor and he went limp instantly. John was on the other man before the first guy quit moving and they plowed hard into the door that led to Teyla's cell. John bounced him once more for good measure off the door, then threw him towards the table. The man slid across the top, and he and the table went over.

John picked up one of the heavy metal chairs and swung it with every ounce of strength he could muster. It connected with the door to Teyla's chamber and the thinner glass actually spider-webbed at the impact point.

_John, forget about me. Get out!_

"You're coming with," he gritted out and swung again with a yell. This time there was an audible crunch from the door and a metallic ping as one of the welds on the chair gave way. He was bringing the chair back for a third swing when he heard a soft discharge followed by a sting in his right shoulder. Without breaking momentum he bellowed and just spun around and threw the chair as hard as he could towards the end of the hall. He pulled the dart out immediately after letting go, but he could already feel a numbness creeping through that arm.

He saw Ford drop back quickly and the chair bounced off the wall less than a foot from him. Then Ford dove forward and came up with that man's tranquilizer pistol and fired as John came over the table at him. The dart caught John in the stomach and he crashed into the kid. They both rolled into the wall, but John wound up on the bottom and took the brunt of the impact. Between that and the drugs he was losing strength fast, but like hell he was going to give up without causing some damage. He aimed a punch for the kid's nose, but his fist grazed off his cheek. Ford came around with a cross that made John see stars, but John countered by grabbing two handfuls of the kid's tac vest and tried to bring him in for another head butt. He only wound up connecting with Ford's chin, and that brought another splash of stars to his vision, but he snapped the kid's head back and he let out a grunt of pain. Then the kid kneed him by pure chance and he let go with a yell of his own.

There was another soft pop from the door, and another dart caught John in the side as he partially curled up. Ford jumped to his feet and aimed a kick at John's stomach. The air whooshed out of him and he curled up even more. At least the drugs were really taking hold, now, and John was glad that wasn't as painful as it should have been. As the world began to disappear in a gray roar, he heard Teyla's voice in his head. It was far away, but distinct.

_Be strong._

_End Note: Yeah, it's not gonna frakkin' help, Teyla. Where's the damn C4 when you need it?_


	21. Chapter 21

_A/N: Oh where, oh where has our Johnny-boy gone?_

Chapter 21

It was shortly after six o'clock that evening when several squads of armed men began appearing in the corridors of Atlantis. The few people that saw them gave them a wide berth since they obviously were men on a mission as they jogged on by, but then turned to watch them after they passed and speculated on just what exactly was going on. Then they lowered their heads and went about their business and thanked God they weren't a part of the weird crap that was going on.

Lorne and Ronon were currently in the damaged and surveillance-free lab on the second sub-level along with Stackhouse, Carpenter, and Stevenson. Zelenka was in the video monitoring room right now working on a glitch that cropped up in one of the server's cooling units, and Kolya was at dinner like he always was at this time. Lorne glanced at his watch – five more minutes and Zelenka would have that two hour video loop up and running before he got out of there. He made one last check of the equipment Stackhouse smuggled in for him and zipped up his tac vest. Their first goal for the evening was to get Sheppard and the woman to a place in Atlantis only he and Ronon would know about, and once they were safe then the rest of the players would do their part to neutralize Kolya's men. He and Ronon would take care of the colonel themselves. Hopefully this would be a bloodless coup and nobody would do anything stupid. His watched beeped and he nodded to the others.

They filed out silently, Lorne in the lead and Ronon taking up the rear. He really wished they could do this more subtly, but they were short on time and didn't have much of a choice. The explosion screwed up everyone's time table, and they were just going to have to take a chance. The corridors on these levels were convoluted compared to the ones above ground so they would be able to bypass the central hub and main elevators. Lorne knew there would be guards posted at quarantine, so when they came around the last corner it didn't surprise him to see Ford and Pedersen. They brought their weapons up. "Stand down, Lieutenant," Lorne said as they surrounded them.

"Sorry, sir – can't do that," Ford replied somewhat nervously as he eyed the weapons aimed at him. But he wasn't backing down, and that wasn't a good sign.

Ronon stepped forward as the doors to two labs in the hall opened and ten other armed men came out, weapons raised. He spun around, gun raised, and frowned murderously.

"The colonel knew you would try something, just not when," Ford replied more confidently. "So we just waited. Hand over your weapons."

Lorne glanced at his team, his mouth drawn into a tight frown. Almost ten seconds passed before nodded faintly. Damn, if he had had just one more day…. He handed over his weapon and they were marched off. The first wave may have failed, but there was the second yet to come.

They were placed in the holding cell next to Michael. The vampire was still lying on his back in a pool of congealed black blood. He smiled and started laughing quietly once the force field was established again, but he did not get up.

-oOo-

Zelenka left control without any suspicion and he headed for the cafeteria for dinner. He was pleased to see Kolya still there at his customary table. But while he was in line he suddenly felt a sharp stab of irritation behind him. He turned casually and saw Kolya tapping his earpiece, then his stomach dropped when the colonel stood and strode from the room purposefully. He took his tray to a table, but hardly touched his food. When he finally quit pushing things around on his plate and decided to leave he was a nervous wreck. He returned to his quarters without incident, but several hours later his door chimed. Seeing Ford and another armed man did not surprise him.

He fared better than Lorne and his team for awhile, anyway.

-oOo-

It was just around ten o'clock and Rodney was back in the lab that held the F-302 engine and running a simulation on its power output to waste time before it was his turn to make his move. He heard the door open, but he ignored it as he studied readings. Things were looking good – he may have figured out how to boost its efficiency by nearly eight percent without putting any strain on the power draw. He was hoping for ten, but eight was really not bad, considering. Then he heard someone clear their throat. "What? Can't you see I'm busy?" he snapped as he turned around. Then his irritation sputtered out when he saw the two armed men. "What do you want?" he squawked out a second later.

"Dr. McKay, please come with us," the one really big Marine said.

"Um, give me a second…."

"Now."

"Excuse me, but I need to make sure this shuts down properly or the big bada-boom that could result would even be strong enough to dent your thick skull," Rodney snapped back. When the big man frowned and lifted his P90 a fraction, Rodney's suddenly found snark crawled back into its corner and cringed. "Um, shutting down, thirty seconds, tops." He kept his nose plastered to his tablet, and the whole routine only took twenty-three, tops. He set the tablet down and turned to face his escorts. "Where are we going?" When they just gestured towards the door he got a really awful feeling and just stuck his jaw out, ducked his head, and walked. "We're not going to the basement, are we?"

"No."

Rodney sighed. That was at least somewhat of a relief.

-oOo-

Keller was in the infirmary – she had pulled night duty since they actually had three patients for a change. The two recovering from surgery were doing fine, and three of the others injured in the explosion had been discharged, but the guy they brought in with a severe concussion a few hours before was still in the nauseous stage and incredibly cranky. When Keller found out it was because John pounded on him, she didn't feel much sympathy. As a matter of fact she offered a silent _good for you_ as she got an ice pack situated on the man's impressive shiner. Then two armed men showed up and asked for her to follow them. She asked why, and when they didn't reply she got really cold. The staff looked just as freaked as she did as she left the infirmary.

-oOo-

Carson was actually asleep when his door chime went off. He tried to ignore it, but a second later it went off again and the door _opened_. He sat up in bed as the light came on. "Here now! What in the bloidy hell!" Then his stomach dropped as he focused on the two armed men. One of them was Bates, and he knew it didn't bode well.

"Dr. Beckett, please come with us," Bates said, his expression unreadable. "We'll wait in the hall until you're dressed." He backed out.

Carson wasn't too surprised his hands were shaking as he pulled his clothes on.

-oOo-

Rodney let out an explosive sigh of relief when his escort hit the button for the topmost level on Atlantis. "Oh, thank God," he muttered. When the big Marine glared down at him Rodney grimaced. "I, I thought _for sure_ you were taking me to the basement," he said. "Even though you, ah, said we weren't," he finished in a rush. The Marine just faced the door and remained silent until they opened again. Then with a jerk of his chin he gestured for Rodney to move. "Going. Going," Rodney said and stepped out of the elevator.

He was led to one of only a half-dozen rooms on this level – the astronomy lab that as far as he knew just contained a few telescopes and dozens of monitors that received direct feeds from observatories all around the world. It was more of an astronomy rec-room, actually. When he stepped through the door he stopped dead, and he didn't move again until the Marine pushed him forward. The telescopes had been shoved to the side and covered, the monitors dark. New equipment had been wheeled in, and most of it looked like it was possibly taken from the infirmary. But what stopped him cold for that brief second was what was under the two medical lights focused on the stainless steel table in the middle of the room.

John was lying naked on the table, straps stretched tightly across his forehead, chest and upper arms, thighs, and ankles. His wrists were secured by heavy braces, and Chaya was in the process of setting up an i.v. in his right arm. She didn't even glance up as Rodney was marched by, and he tried not to look too closely as he passed the table. But he could see the steady rise and fall of Sheppard's stomach and that made him sigh in relief again. The guy was pretty bruised up, but still alive.

"So nice of you to join us," Kolya said from just off of Rodney's left, and Rodney let out a startled squawk.

"Like I had a choice," Rodney snapped back and glared at Kolya. The colonel was standing in the shadows and in a position where he could see everyone enter, but they couldn't really see him because of the lights. Rodney was led over to a cleared area by the windows that curved up and formed part of the ceiling. He glanced up and was surprised he could see stars between the darting clouds. _Wow, that didn't happen often this time of year_, he thought absently. Then he was back glaring at Kolya. "You know, your goons here interrupted a potentially dangerous test. They're lucky…."

"Oh, please be quiet, McKay," Kolya said, voice low. He was holding something, a rod, about three feet long and with a heavy insulated handle. He was tapping the shaft lightly into his palm. "You are incredibly annoying sometimes."

Rodney fell silent with a gulp. Then Keller entered and did the exact same thing Rodney did a minute earlier. Her hands went to her mouth as she was pushed forward, but she started to slow down again by the table.

"Please go join Dr. McKay," Kolya said from the shadows and Keller let out a short, startled scream.

Keller retreated from him and a second later was next to Rodney. She grabbed onto his arm and he grimaced but didn't pry her fingers free. "What the hell is going on?" she whispered. Chaya was now applying monitor patches to John's chest and temples, her expression quite serene, and seemed completely oblivious to what was going on around her.

"My guess – mind games," Rodney whispered back. "Sick, demented, twisted little mind games." When Kolya turned and smirked at him, he swallowed. "Oh, crap," he barely said.

Lorne and Ronon were the next to arrive, and they had quite the impressive armed escort. They didn't get the chance to pause, but Lorne's face settled into that tight lipped frown and Ronon looked like he was about to start swinging. Then he saw Keller and forcibly calmed himself. When he got over to that end of the room she let go of Rodney and hugged him briefly, and he glared at Kolya over the top of her head.

"How touching," Kolya said and continued to smirk.

Zelenka was the next to be brought in, and he froze, his mouth dropping open. It snapped shut a second later as he was pushed forward so hard by Ford he almost fell. Zelenka caught himself on the edge of the table John was lying on, then he straightened up, pushed his glasses up, and muttered in Czech as he joined the rest.

The armed contingent outnumbered the prisoners now and fanned out around the edges of the room.

Chaya attached the last of the leads to her equipment and John's vitals jumped to life on several screens. A quiet, steady beeping filled the momentary silence in the room. She glanced at Kolya and smiled. "Ready."

Kolya glanced at his watch. "Just a moment, Tatiana. We're waiting for one more; then we can begin."

Chaya pouted.

Rodney thought he was going to puke. A quick glance at Zelenka, and he realized he wasn't the only one.

Carson was herded in a moment later, and his reaction was the most verbose. "What in God's name?" He charged forward and was at the table before Bates could even react. "You're bloidy insane!" he said as he looked up at Chaya. Then he was looking at John's stats and ignoring her indignant scowl. He only got a glance before Bates was pulling him away. He started to fight back but Bates yanked his arm up and behind him quite easily and quickly.

"Doctor, join the others, now, or I will have the sergeant dislocate your shoulder," Kolya said calmly.

Carson grimaced as Bates led him over to the group by the window. "You've gone too far!" he yelled as he was released with a rude shove. He whirled around and actually took a step forward before a hand on his shoulder stopped him. He glanced back at Rodney and jerked his shoulder away. But he stayed put.

Kolya snorted softly and checked his watch again. This time he nodded and turned to face the little group. He shook his head sadly as he regarded them. "You are all such gullible fools," he said condescendingly. He gestured at John with the rod he was holding, and the two copper prongs on its tip gleamed in the glare of the bright surgical lamps. "I cannot believe you were all deceived by this animal. Really now, how could you possibly think it was even human?" He sneered in disgust and shook his head again.

"What the hell are you trying to prove?" Carson growled out.

"I just want to show you all the animal underneath the mask – the pretender for what it truly is." Kolya nodded to Chaya. "Wake it."

Chaya picked up one of several syringes on a table that held other surgical supplies and pulled its cap. She injected its contents into the i.v. port, and a couple seconds later the quiet beeping of the heart monitor kicked into overdrive and John gasped raggedly.

-oOo-

John snapped awake, his heart pounding so hard it made his breath catch. He couldn't see anything it was so bright, and when he took in a few stuttering breaths he noticed that the tightness he felt around his chest was _external_. Then his pulse began to slow and he started noticing other things. There was the same tightness across his forehead and thighs and ankles, and something holding his wrists, and that realization shot his pulse back up again.

And he was really cold.

He could barely move his head, but he was able to lower his chin down enough to confirm that yes, he was indeed naked. He squinted but couldn't see much beyond the bright lights shining into his eyes, but he could smell. His brain processed the scents quite readily and told him who was in the room just as accurately. The pressure on his forehead was awful so he lifted his chin again. "Say, anyone else feeling a draft?" he said and swallowed on a dry throat. His voice shook a touch. He wasn't surprised.

Someone giggled. It was nervous and bordered on the edge of hysteria, and John was just sure it was Rodney. A second later his suspicion was confirmed when he heard a couple shushes followed by a very faint, "Shutting up now."

"Tatiana, sit it up, if you would, please," Kolya said.

A second later the table started to tilt to the soft hiss of hydraulics and stopped when John was at a touch more than a forty-five degree angle. The pressure on his chest and forehead went from uncomfortable to painful as his weight settled to a new center of gravity. Now he could see the others in the room since the lights were no longer in his eyes, and if the strap across his chest hadn't made breathing difficult, the expressions and roiling emotions he could feel coming off of them would have done the job quite nicely. And he could see at least eight armed men keeping them in place, one that Ford kid.

Kolya stepped into view, and it took a moment for John to recognize what the man was holding. His pulse shot up even more and the fucking colonel _smiled_.

_End Note: Ah, he's gone to hell..._


	22. Chapter 22

_A/N: Warning The following chapter contains the gratuitous and extremely unethical use of a cattle prod and may be too intense for some readers. Reader discretion is advised. Always wanted to say something like that._

Chapter 22

Kolya turned to face his captive audience, the smile still lighting his features. John watched as everyone except Ronon and Lorne flinched faintly. "Now you will see its true face." He stepped back out of the way, his attention divided between John and the others.

A full minute passed in silence, then another, and the tension in the room mounted in proportion to the frown that slowly replaced Kolya's cock-sure smile. Twice the colonel glanced briefly past John, and John was able to turn his head and eyes just enough to see what the man was looking at.

Through the window he could see the edge of the full moon was just visible as it came up over the rim of the mountains in the distance.

John looked back at Kolya. "Did I, uh, miss something?" he said. He could hear a shuffle of bodies and a few intakes of breath.

Kolya snorted. "You're amusing," he said icily.

"Yeah, well, I get the guys I shoot pool league with to laugh."

"_Silence!_" Kolya's hand shot out and the cattle prod touched John on his side, just above his left hip.

"_JESUS MOTHER FU…."_ The word ended in an unintelligible bellow as John tried to pull away from the contact. Every part of him tried to curl up and away, but the straps held him down mercilessly. When he had first moved into his cabin there was a dilapidated old outhouse on the property. His first task was to clear it out, and when he knocked it over he didn't know there was a yellow jacket nest in the thing. He got nailed a dozen times before he was able to get inside and away from the swarm. Right now it felt like every single one of those stings had come back to haunt him, and they were centered right above his hip. He made a few more guttural noises before he managed to get out, "_What the hell didya do that for!?!_" He let out another angry bellow.

"Stop this!" Carson said and came forward. Two sets of hands held him back just as Kolya spun to face him, cattle prod raised and less than a foot from Carson's face. "This is, is …." Lorne and Ronon held him fast. "Inhuman!" Carson finally spat out.

"Interesting choice of words, doctor," Kolya said. "I strongly suggest you stand back." He held the cattle prod steady, about eye level with the doctor.

"C'mon, doc," Lorne said quietly as he eyed the guards. They had all raised their weapons. Carson noticed as well, and allowed the two men to pull him back.

John watched as he panted, teeth bared and hands clenched into fists. The spot was _still_ throbbing like a sonuvabitch. Then he started to pick up a new scent in the room. It was heavy, musky, and was coming from off to his right. He managed to turn enough that way to see Chaya watching him, her lips parted and eyes half lidded. He tried to pull away, he _wanted_ to pull away, but couldn't.

"You didn't change."

John gratefully returned his attention to Kolya. "I don't know what you're talking about," he gritted out.

Kolya lowered his chin and gave John a patronizing frown. "Please," was all he said before he touched the cattle prod to John's stomach about three inches below his navel.

John couldn't form words – he bellowed and struggled, but he didn't scream. Kolya watched with a faint smile and the guards shifted nervously. John finally quieted down and glared at Kolya, his breath coming in deep ragged gasps that tightened the strap around his chest with every inhale.

Lorne still had a grip on Carson, and both men had their lips drawn in and were white from rage. Ronon couldn't keep his arms still, and he was alternating between crossing them and running his hands back over his dreds or down his face and goatee. Rodney just stood there, his mouth open in shock, and both Zelenka and Keller had hands over their mouths and looked ill.

"Do I have your attention now?" Kolya asked as he leaned forward a fraction.

John drew his lips in and glowered.

Kolya settled back. "Good. I know you aren't human. So why don't you save yourself this discomfort and change?"

"Fuck you."

Kolya sighed. "Suit yourself."

This time John did scream when the cattle prod connected right at the fold where his left leg met his torso. His lips peeled back and he felt the odd, painless pressure in his jaws as both sets of canines extended.

Then everyone in the room drew in a breath when a shadow _rippled_ the entire length of John's body.

John went limp, completely drenched in sweat, and panted. But he was still human, and for some strange reason he felt a tremendous amount of triumph at that fact. Then he caught another whiff of musk just before a small hand settled on his jaw. He snapped his mouth shut and felt Chaya pull back.

"Oh, dear God," Carson said, his hand to his mouth. Lorne was still a quiet anchor by his side, his grip a bruising force on his shoulder. "Enough, Kolya. You've made your point," he said softly. When Kolya turned to face him, he found more strength for his voice. "Stop this, now. For the love of God – enough."

Kolya cocked his head, his expression unreadable. Then he noticed Ronon was starting to pace and appeared to be on the verge of doing something despite all the guns aimed towards the group. "Lieutenant," he said at Ford. The young man only briefly glanced his way. "If he gets out of hand…." He gestured towards Keller. "Shoot her."

Ronon was instantly in front of Keller.

Ford glanced back and forth between Kolya and Ronon. "Sir?" he said hesitantly.

"That is an order, Lieutenant."

Ford still appeared torn when he replied in a steadier voice, "Yes. Sir." He leveled his P90, but his eyes were a tad on the wild side and the muscles bunched along his jaw.

Rodney was still quiet, and it was clear he couldn't quite figure out what to do with his hands. They danced between rubbing his mouth, covering his eyes, and just fluttering uselessly before he'd try to cross his arms to corral them. Finally one hand settled on his forehead and he just lowered his head, closed his eyes, and shook his head spastically. When he lifted his head a second later, his hand just stayed over his mouth.

Zelenka couldn't take the roiling emotions in the room anymore – he turned to the side and puked.

Kolya let out an unimpressed grunt and faced John. "You are a stubborn one, that's for certain. Why do you resist? Is it because of some misguided sense of pride? Do you think your kind is better than us?" He gestured around the room. "Do you think this defiance is, what, noble?"

John glared at the man. He wanted to say, _No, you fucking asshole. It's because it's been over twenty years since I've been in my true form, and no way in hell am I going to do it for you and that psycho bitch's amusement._ Instead he remained silent, his breath coming hard. Then he decided that maybe it really _was_ a matter of pride after all.

Kolya sighed wearily. "Change."

"No."

"Very well."

John didn't know how he managed it, but Kolya got that damn cattle prod past his penis and hit him in the balls. He opened his mouth wide and _roared_. The sound was bestial, deep, and filled the room. A second later there was a loud snap and the strap holding his head down broke as he surged forward. Something whizzed past Chaya, ricocheted off a monitor screen and cracked it before disappearing into the far corner. John squeezed his eyes shut as he felt the change sweep over him. Black fur erupted from his skin and the bones around his nose and mouth shifted and realigned. The strap across his thighs creaked loudly as his legs changed proportion – thighs thickening and shortening while his feet actually became longer, more flexible and pawlike, and pulled halfway out of the ankle straps at the cost of some fur. He instinctually didn't clench his hands into fists, but instead spread his fingers wide so the long, fully retractable claws didn't puncture flesh. He sucked in a deep breath, and in the sudden silence everyone could hear the strap across his chest creak as well. Then he roared again, but this time it was with very recognizable words. "_I AM GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU!"_

Weapons came up and the guards all shifted into ready stances, but a second later John collapsed back against the table. His eyes remained fixed on Kolya, and he showed his teeth as he gasped raggedly. His nose and upper lip were more like a muzzle now, but his features were still clearly recognizable in the panther face.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," Carson muttered in pure awe. He felt Lorne's hand leave his shoulder a second later.

Kolya stepped closer, his own face registering amazement. "The others couldn't speak," he said quietly. "Why can you?"

_Probably because they weren't pure-bloods,_ he thought but didn't voice. He just narrowed his eyes, flattened his whiskers, and wrinkled his nose in a silent snarl.

Chaya stepped up closer as well, and was in the process of reaching out to touch John when he simply turned his head and snapped his jaws shut. His teeth clacked together audibly less than four inches from her face and she jerked back. "Back off, bitch," he growled and bared his teeth. A second later he was roaring in pain as Kolya nailed him in the stomach again. The smell of singed fur filled the room.

"Sedate it," Kolya told Chaya. She nodded and picked up another syringe. While she was doing that Kolya turned back to the others. "Now you know the truth," he said rather smugly. He tapped the cattle prod a few times into his palm again and studied each one in turn. "I've been fully aware you have all been planning something the past few days, but as you can clearly see – it will not be leaving this facility."

"You cannot do this," Carson said, his voice tight. "It isn't right."

"Oh, but I can," Kolya replied. "These 'things' are less than human. Less than … animal, even." He stepped forward and the rage was clear on his face. "They take what they want, _when_ they want, without any thought of consequence."

"And torturing him isn't going to bring your son back," Carson said softly.

Kolya drew up short and the only sound in the room was the slowing beep of John's heart monitor. Then Kolya forcibly pulled himself back together. "You may be right, doctor, but at least this way I know there will be some justice." He turned his back to Carson. "Take them away – lock them in their rooms until I decide what to do with them."

The guards stepped forward and motioned them on with their weapons. John's head was lolling, but he was still awake as they filed on by, and both Carson and Lorne got close enough to touch him briefly on the arm. Ronon barely muttered _you're tough_ and clenched a fist. He made a soft chuff in reply. Keller and Zelenka offered him weak smiles, and the pity he saw in their faces was almost too much to bear. Rodney was completely unreadable, but if he had to take a guess John thought he could feel anger coming off the man. Ford was the last one in line, and John could smell nothing but fear coming off of him. Then the table was being tilted backwards again and he closed his eyes as the pressure eased across his chest. They snapped open again a second later when Chaya started _petting_ him. He rolled his head to the side and snapped weakly at her, but she was too far away this time and Kolya was too busy tightening the strap over his feet to reprimand him with the cattle prod.

Kolya straightened the front of his jacket and looked at Chaya. "Shall we begin?" He was smiling again and Chaya replied with a sound in the back of her throat that was hardly appropriate for the situation.

John wished he was unconscious as he closed his eyes. At least whatever Chaya had given him a moment ago was making him _numb_.

_End Note: Wasnt' kidding. And to any guys out there reading, my apologies - I'm really not a psycho. I'm just good at creating psycho characters. And let's face it, after this - KOLYA'S GONNA GET IT!_


	23. Chapter 23

_A/N: Okay - you've all survived the torture? Good, good. Now that the opening salvo has been fired, the troops are moving in..._

Chapter 23

Physically, Rodney felt like every shot of Novocain he'd ever had in his life had come back to haunt him. Mentally wasn't much better, especially after seeing Sheppard get hit with the cattle prod and Chaya practically having an orgasm on the spot. _That_ little image was going to haunt his dreams for a long time, that's for damn sure. And he was so glad he didn't see the shot to the nuts clearly since Lorne was blocking part of the view. But what happened next….

_That_ got Rodney's brain working again. In all those cheesy monster movies he and his sister sat through every Saturday night when their ages were still in the single digits, they always presented shape-shifting with tons of squishy, crunching sound effects that just made him hide his eyes and Jeannie laugh at him. But the real thing was so swift, controlled, smooth, and, and … and just so freaking _cool_ he couldn't believe it. His brain suddenly started to focus on the dynamics of it – of the ratios of energy transfer it would take to change something from one shape to another, how would mass be affected, the changes in physiology, where in the hell did all that damn _fur_ come from? Then while his brain got distracted by the absolute impossibility of it all, his emotions started to wake up as well. And one thing was certain – pissed didn't even begin to cover it. Yes, it would be absolutely fascinating to study something like this – it just blew his mind that these things really _did_ exist – but the Mengele Method was _not_ the way to go about it. Hell, with all the new medical scanners – even that cool one they got from the SGC last year – there was absolutely no reason for any invasive procedures whatsoever. Or dissection….

Yeah, he saw the surgical tools sitting out. _Everyone_ saw them, and he knew it was so planned that way. Crazy, manipulative, son of a bitch….

By the time they were herded out his anger was just starting a slow boil. He met Sheppard's eyes as he passed the table, and although they were a little unfocused from whatever Chaya had pumped into him a few minutes earlier, they were still the same pale green _aware_ eyes he'd seen twinkle in amusement at one of Radek's really lame jokes in the lab. That brought the boil up a notch, and by the time he was marching down the corridor to his own quarters he was producing more steam than Yellowstone National Park. He knew how important their, well, _his_ work was at the Project, and there was no way in hell he was going to let some psycho soldier with a hard-on for power trips and collecting and torturing freaks jeopardize his research. Oh, hell no – that sick little display they were all made to sit and witness was the quark that broke the quantum camel's back.

They made a very big mistake when they locked him in his room for the rest of the night – they didn't take his computer away. They were grunts following orders. They didn't know any better. He was instantly in front of it and in a matter of minutes modifying the directives he'd put in place for stage two of the break-out/take-over plan. The subroutines he created to lock selective doors could just as easily be tweaked to unlock others. And Zelenka wasn't the only one who could manipulate the security server…. His fingers flew like a master pianist, and it took just under an hour to make all the changes he needed, plus a few extras.

Now, how to notify the others. He looked through the various security feeds. "Holy crap," he muttered as he discovered Kolya didn't post guards on any of them. "He's probably too busy getting Chaya off to think of that." Then his face fell and he grimaced sickly. "Oh, man – I just made myself sick," he muttered. He shook his head a few times, and after a brief glance at his watch, started working again. Looked like admin had locked Lorne out of the system. "Bah, what's admin to a genius," Rodney muttered and got busy.

-oOo-

Zelenka couldn't sleep, and plugging in one of the disks from his treasured Xena collection was not providing much of a distraction from the images that kept playing through his mind. He was aware of werewolves – he knew of a thriving vlkodlak community in Budapest, and he even went to university with one of its princes – and he'd heard of werebears and, yes, wererats, but never of a werepanther. It made sense that there were other types of changelings out there, and even though he knew Pavl was vargyr, he'd never seen him change.

That was truly the most fantastický sight he'd ever witnessed. And at the same time, the most sickening and heart rending. It had been a couple hours since then, and he prayed that Sheppard was all right.

His computer let out an incredibly loud beep and Zelenka practically leaped out of his skin. He glanced that way and saw a box of text flashing in the center of the screen. Zelenka got up, his lips slightly sticking out from a frowning pout, and pushed his glasses up as he walked over to his desk. His eyebrows shot up when he got close enough to read the text.

_Come to my room. Hallways in residential section are clear. Goons are locked away and deaf and dumb for the night. Rodney._ Then it was gone.

A second later Zelenka heard his door lock disengage. "Oh, you devious čubčí syn." He grinned like a madman as he left his room to head for Rodney's.

-oOo-

Lorne sat at his desk playing solitaire on his computer, an empty bottle of Maalox sitting near his hand. He secretly wished it was a bottle of whiskey, but it was going to have to do for now. He should have just ferried Sheppard to the mainland, dropped his ass off on the beach and let him fend for himself, but no – he had to go all duty bound and bring him back. He was hoping things would have worked out for the better, and they could have taken him back home in a civilized manner, but the explosion down on SL2 screwed things up. Now he was probably being skinned alive at the moment for all he knew, his e-mail had been disabled so he couldn't contact _anyone_ on the outside or inside, and his radio had been confiscated. "Shit," he muttered and picked up the bottle of antacid before he remembered it was empty. He hurled it across the room.

Then he lost another damn game of solitaire. That made thirty-some in a row, stingy damn program. He had the laptop in his hands, and was seriously contemplating hurling it as well, when it let out a startlingly loud _boop_ and the message popped up on his screen, shortly followed by another that said, _Grab Ronon, he's not online._ Lorne blinked at it a few times, and thought it was a joke, until he heard the lock to his door disengage. He kissed the screen.

Things were back on track.

-oOo-

Keller was the last one to show up to Rodney's clandestine meeting. Her eyes were puffy and red, but she had a determined set to her mouth. She went over to stand by Ronon where he leaned up against a dresser, and he put an arm around her shoulders and gave her a brief squeeze.

"All right, now that we're all here, how many of you were sickened by that twisted and perverted little display tonight? Hmm?" Rodney said from his perch on the edge of his desk as he raised his hand and waggled it. He got several nods in reply so he lowered his hand. "Okay – lockdown is now in effect. Peter and Chuck will be notifying everyone who is on the lists Radek and Lorne supplied me, and they will help keep any innocent bystanders out of the way until this thing is over. Hopefully nothing out of the ordinary will be noticed until after the eight o'clock shift change when Lorne's guys come on duty. Those that are Kolya's lackeys will find themselves locked in their rooms once they turn in."

"Communications in residential sections will be jammed, and feed for all stairwells will be on a twenty-four hour loop," Zelenka said as he pushed up his glasses. "If my bug is still in security, we will be able to activate it via remote for two hour window for all other sections of Atlantis. Top two levels of tower, and all lab levels will have active but heavily monitored communications. If we are lucky, Kolya will go to bed and we can lock him up with the rest."

"Fat chance," Rodney muttered.

"Have you checked on John?" Keller asked.

"Aye," Carson said. He was sitting in Rodney's desk chair and had his chin braced in his palm. "He's still alive, seems relatively unhurt." He was watching the security feed from the astronomy lab on Rodney's computer. "She hasn't done anything … invasive yet." Keller came over, looked over his shoulder, and let out a quick sigh of relief.

"Good," Lorne said. "How about my guys in holding?"

"They're fine," Rodney replied. "I can't override the cell's controls remotely – we'll, uh, have to send someone down there to do it to let them out." He glanced at Zelenka.

Zelenka drew his chin back and shook his head. "Don't look at me – I'm not going anywhere near the wampyr."

"Someone on security can do it later – be less suspicious to see one of them down on that level right now," Lorne replied. He didn't blame Dr. Z one bit for not wanting to go in that room. That few hours cooling his heels down there was bad enough.

Radek slumped in relief.

"No, I have something else for you to do," Rodney said and grinned crookedly.

"I do not like that look on your face, Rodney," Zelenka said. "It makes my, my šourek … ustoupit. No, no, not good."

"You and Keller are going to free Elizabeth."

Zelenka's eyebrows shot up. "Oh." Then he set his features. "There are guards posted."

"I know." Rodney glanced at Carson briefly. "That's why I had a little discussion with Dr. Ferrell in weapons when we first started planning this whole thing. She hates blood as much as I do – still can't figure out why she works in R&D there – but she's going to float us some of the stunners that are on loan from SGC. The lab has been left unlocked until I tell her otherwise." Rodney was barely containing himself. "We just have to pick them up. I'll be able to brief you on how to use them."

Carson looked very relieved. He'd made the point time and again that he didn't want any spilled blood with this coup.

"Stun guards, get Elizabeth out, take her someplace safe until the all clear is given, piece of cake," Rodney said with a few quick finger snaps.

Zelenka looked at Keller. "I'm not too hot of shot. You?"

Keller beamed. "Pretty damn good, actually. Piece of cake," she said to Rodney.

"Take her to either your or Radek's room and keep her there until it's clear," Carson said. "As soon as you hear, get her to the infirmary, immediately. We don't know what kind of shape she'll be in."

Keller and Zelenka both nodded.

"I want to accompany you and Ronon when you get Sheppard," Carson said to Lorne.

"Oh, hey, doc. That isn't a good idea," Lorne said. Their part was the most risky, and had the greatest chance of encountering gunfire.

"I know it isn't, but there's a bloidy good chance you'll need me."

Lorne drew his lips in as he considered Carson's words. "All right – but you're wearing armor. No _if_s, _and_s, or _but_s."

"Understood, major," Carson replied. "I'll need to swing by the infirmary and grab a kit – I'll grab a kit for you, too, Jenn. And a few other things." When Lorne started to look like he was about protest again Carson held up a hand. "Won't fill but a small pack. Nice and tidy."

"All right."

Rodney stood up and walked over to his printer. "While I was waiting for you all to show up, I got into Kolya's personal files and found some information on Sheppard." He held the paper on the top of the stack up, and it had a small photo of a man in an Air Force uniform along with a ton of print. "Did you know the guy was a captain in the Air Force?"

"Kolya mentioned something about it, but not his rank," Lorne said.

"Huh. Anyway, he was a pretty damn good pilot from the sound of it," Rodney continued as he flipped the paper back around. He missed the glance between Ronon and Lorne. "But he was court-martialed and less than honorably discharged in 2003. He disobeyed direct orders, flew into enemy territory to rescue two downed pilots, got shot down in the process. But he did walk out of the desert a week later with one of the guys. That's probably the only reason they didn't dishonorably discharge him."

"What? Let me see that," Lorne said somewhat sharply and held his hand out. Rodney lifted his head and looked a little startled. He handed the papers over and Lorne stepped off to the side to read them. Everyone watched him in silence for the next minute, and they could tell he was getting pissed. "Oh, yeah – _that's_ the actions of a, a less than human _animal_." Lorne crumpled the papers. "Fucking brass – should have given him a medal." He threw the wad of paper at Rodney's overflowing garbage can hard enough to knock a few more things out. Then he ran his hands back over his hair and settled them on his neck. "Shit."

"That's kind of what I thought," Rodney said in a rush. Then he was nervously glancing at the other papers he held. "And I found Michael's records, too."

"Who's Michael?" Ronon asked. He was looking a little pissed, too, and the question came out pretty threatening.

"He's the, uh, vampire in the basement," Rodney squeaked out.

"Kolya's son," Zelenka added quietly.

"What?" Lorne, Ronon, and Keller all said at once.

Rodney glanced back and forth between them. "We didn't tell you? Oh, sorry – thought we did." Rodney cleared his throat. "Anyhow, um, Lt. Michael Kenmore was part of the NATO forces in Kosovo, went MIA in early 2002, was presumed killed. Instead he was, ah, turned."

Zelenka nodded and frowned. "Lots of wampyr's in that area then. Very bad time."

"His last name is different," Keller said.

"His mother divorced Kolya shortly after he was born, changed names." Rodney grimaced. "Can't say I don't blame her."

"Are my boys safe?" Lorne asked again, his tone a bit panicked.

Rodney nodded spastically. "The force field keeps him in the cell."

"He hasn't been fed for long time," Zelenka added. "Can't dematerialize when that weak." Now they were all looking at him. "What? I grew up knowing these stories. Didn't you?"

"Only in Saturday Creature Features," Lorne said.

Rodney was staring at Zelenka. "I can't even begin to imagine what your childhood was like."

Zelenka smiled broadly. "Quite enjoyable, actually," he said and pushed his glasses up.

Lorne grunted and shook his head. Then he glanced around the room. "All right. Get what you need to get, meet back here and be _ready_ to go in one hour. And be careful, for Christ's sake." They all nodded.

"Remember – all stairwells are safe," Zelenka added.

"Thanks, doc," Lorne replied. Then he fixed is gaze on Rodney. "You know for sure where those stunners are?"

"Um, yeah."

"Good. You can come with me and Ronon to pick them up." When Rodney started to protest Lorne just waved him off. "C'mon, time's a wasting. Besides, you get the cushy part of all this once it starts – you're our eye in the sky." After a quick check of the hall, he was dragging him out of the room.

"And there's a reason, you know," Rodney muttered. "Direct contact with violence gives me hives."

Ronon slapped him on the back, waited a moment, then peered down the back of his shirt. "No it doesn't."

Rodney gave him a sick little grimace.

_End Note: Tah dah duh DAH duh DAAAA! Charge!!!_


	24. Chapter 24

_A/N: I couldn't resist poking some fun at SG-1's expense in this beginning scene. C'mon, I know some of you have thought the same thing... :)_

Chapter 24

Rodney was still panting from climbing six levels of stairs when he pulled the odd, vaguely question mark shaped object out of the duffle. He lifted a finger and took a couple more breaths before he started speaking. "Oh, dear God. Okay. _This_ is a zat'ni'katel. We call them zats for short." He took a few more breaths and activated the weapon. It made a short high pitched sound and rose above his hand. "Once activated here, it …." His words trailed off when Keller snickered loudly. He glared at her. "What?" he asked sharply.

"Nothing," Keller said, her hand in front of her mouth. She waved, but she was still smirking and her eyes were _glittering_. "Go on."

Rodney went to continue, but Keller was trying really hard not to giggle. He looked at her again. "What?" The word came out strangled.

"A, ah, guy designed that, didn't they?" she said and pointed at the zat. Now she was getting vaguely amused looks from the other men in the room.

Rodney looked at the weapon in his hand, then a second later he sighed heavily and his shoulders slumped a fraction. "It's, it's, it's supposed to resemble a serpent coiling to, uh, strike," he said rather grumpily, but his ears were red.

Zelenka cocked his head and his eyebrows rose. "Oh." Then he was hiding a grin.

"Uh huh, he sees it," Keller replied. "I'm sorry – I'm really tired. Continue."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "As I was saying before the junior high mentality kicked into overdrive, once this is activated, one shot will stun. Two will kill, and three will disintegrate. To deactivate, just press here again." It settled back down with another high pitched sound, and Keller just about choked. "Oh, Jesus Christ," Rodney muttered and handed it to her. "Can you please contain yourself and act like an adult?" He started handing out the rest – everybody would be armed with a zat, even Rodney.

Keller turned away and activated the weapon to get a feel for it. And broke out laughing. "Please tell me it doesn't take two minutes before it fires?"

"Oh would you quit!" Rodney snapped. But everyone else was snickering by now.

"Sorry. Sorry. Really, _really_ tired," Keller said and deactivated the zat. The joyous giggle she let out finally had Rodney grinning. Just a little. His head twitched more than anything else, and his ears were crimson.

Carson reached over, put a hand behind her neck, and pulled her in for a really quick peck on the forehead. "Thank you," he said, his own dimples showing. "I think we all needed that."

Ronon and Lorne were grinning at her as they strapped on side arms – they were going to be carrying Beretta's as well as the zats in case things did get ugly. Lorne was glad his stash of gear was still in the damaged lab. Then they helped Carson get situated with his vest. His pack was not much bigger than a large overnight kit and strapped on easily to the front of the vest within reach, and he also managed to snag a bigger emergency kit for Keller while he was in the infirmary. The crew on duty promised not to tell, and they kept the guards that were in there as patients from seeing him. Then Rodney was passing out radio earpieces to Ronon, Lorne, and Carson. "These have all been set to an alternate frequency. Remember, they won't work on levels three through five."

"Then how will you talk to them?" Keller asked, her giggles now under control, but not her grin.

Rodney picked up another, this one with a lead, and plugged it into his computer. "I'll be re-routed through control and Peter." He sat down and started checking various video feeds. Then his fingers really started flying, and a second later he leaned back with a very happy smirk. "Huh! Zelenka – you _are_ a genius! Two hour total loop up and running. All right, you're all good to go."

Then all smiles disappeared as they glanced at one another. Then with a short nod from Carson, they filed out silently.

-oOo-

Rodney's quarters were on the first residential level of Atlantis, which was T3. At T5 the group parted company. Ronon gave Keller a brief squeeze on the shoulder. "Be careful," he said.

"You, too, Chewie," she said and smiled. Ronon grunted and she rolled her eyes. Then they were heading up. Keller pulled the zat and activated it. "That really is so, so … phallic," she said and shook her head.

Zelenka pushed his glasses up, his own grin as wide as hers. "It's alien, so I've been told. I wonder what their other weapons look like?"

"Probably a big rod or something like that," she said and rolled her eyes. Then her face got serious and she nodded to Zelenka to open the door. He did, and she led the way, zat ready. They had the advantage of it being nearly three o'clock in the morning so the halls were already quiet. Word had gotten out to those that did work a night shift to stay in their labs until the storm blew over, so Keller and Zelenka were able to proceed quickly and without detection. When they got to the hall junction that led to Elizabeth's quarters, Keller took a quick peek around the corner. The two men on duty didn't look like any of the ones who were upstairs earlier, so they shouldn't draw too much suspicion. She nodded to Zelenka, and they both just casually walked around the corner, him just a little in front of her and blocking her right arm.

The guards looked their way, and Keller let them have her biggest, dimply smile. One actually started to smile back when Zelenka stepped to the side and she shot them both. They crumpled without making a sound.

Zelenka made an impressed little grunt as he stepped over a fallen Marine and glanced towards the nearest camera. He did have his data pad with him in case he had to interface with anything, but why take the time when you had a spy? "You're good." Rodney unlocked the door a second later.

"Thanks," Keller said as she checked pulses. "My Dad took me target shooting all the time – thought I should know how to handle a gun." She deactivated the zat and tucked it in the pocket of her jacket, the handle sticking out and easily accessible. "I even got a merit badge for marksmanship."

Zelenka paused with his hand over the door controls. "The Girl Scouts give out merit badges for that?"

Keller nodded. "Part of a hunter's safety program." She shrugged. "Hunting was big where I grew up."

"Huh." Zelenka pushed up his glasses and ran his hand down the lighted panel. The door slid open. "Go, I will drag these two in."

Keller ducked into the dark room. It smelled like the room of an invalid – slightly musty, closed up, and with a hint of stale food and urine. "Elizabeth?" she said softly as she turned on a light in the small living room. She saw the door to the bedroom was open and a blanket covered lump in the bed. "Dr. Weir?" she called again as she stepped into that room and turned on another light. The lump stirred faintly.

Zelenka grunted as he pulled the first unconscious man into the room. He turned around briefly and glanced towards the bedroom before he went to fetch the other man. He got that man in quicker – he was a lot lighter – and quickly shut the door.

Keller sat down on the edge of the bed. She could only see the top of Elizabeth's head so she gently pulled the blanket back. "Elizabeth? Time to get up." She could see the woman trying to wake, so she very gently put the backs of her fingers against her cheek and brushed lightly. Her skin was cool and very dry.

Elizabeth's eyes fluttered open and she looked up at Keller. She blinked a few times, her pupils very dilated. "Jennifer?" she said weakly.

"Yes, Elizabeth, it's me." Keller kept her voice soft, comforting, and smiled. "Radek is here, too. We've come to get you out. Can you sit up for me?"

"Radek?" Then Elizabeth looked past Keller and saw the Czech in the doorway. He waved at her and gave her a little smile. "Kolya?" she said, her voice suddenly very frightened.

"Being taken care of," Radek said.

"Oh," Elizabeth said. Then she burst into tears.

Radek shuffled awkwardly and lowered his eyes briefly. Keller pulled her up into a sitting position and hugged her. "Shh. It's okay – we'll get you out of here and all better." As she patted Elizabeth's back she could feel ribs through her t-shirt. She had always been a slender woman, but was painfully thin now. Elizabeth hugged her back and shook. "It's all right now. It's all over."

Radek busied himself with relieving the guards of their weapons and securing their hands and ankles with some plastic zip ties Lorne had given him. He was shaking as he did it – he saw the track marks on Elizabeth's arms just before she hugged Keller. He tightened the zips more than was really necessary, then pulled a small roll of duct tape from his pocket and covered their mouths.

Elizabeth's outburst silenced quickly. Keller suspected it was because of weakness more than emotional drain. "Can you get up?" she asked her. Elizabeth nodded as she dragged the back of a hand across a cheek. That was when she saw the track marks. She gently took Elizabeth's arm in her hands and studied them. Some were mildly infected. "Do you know what they've been giving you?" Her tone was still soft, but the anger she was feeling gave her words a tremor.

"No, I don't. But, but it's very addictive, makes me sleep a lot."

"Morphine, most likely," Keller replied. "Can you get up?" Elizabeth nodded and they pushed her blankets away. She was wearing a pair of sleep shorts and that was it besides the t-shirt. "Radek, could you find us some clothes?"

"Certainly."

"Top drawer, far dresser. Has my sweats," Elizabeth supplied as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Her voice was still weak, but growing stronger with every word. It took help from both Keller and Zelenka to get her dressed. They found a pair of slip on shoes, and within a few minutes were out the door. Zelenka spent a few seconds scrambling the door controls manually, then they were off.

Keller's room was the closest, but one floor down. It took them twenty minutes to get there, and at the end Zelenka was carrying Elizabeth while Keller had all the weapons as well as her backpack with the emergency kit inside and Zelenka's pad half sticking out of the top. They got her settled on Keller's bed while she got an i.v. drip started then cleaned and bandaged her arm. Zelenka just sat next to her – Elizabeth hadn't let go of his hand since he set her down. She smiled tiredly up at both of them before she drifted off to sleep.

Only then did Zelenka let go, both of her hand and with a steady litany of quiet swearing. He went over to Keller's desk and plugged his pad into the wall port. A message from Rodney popped up instantly. _How is she?_

_Half starved, hooked on morphine, and very weak. How fare the others? _Zelenka replied.

_So far, so good,_ Rodney typed back. _Will keep you informed._ Zelenka relayed the message to Keller.

She covered Elizabeth with a blanket and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Now, we wait," she said.

Zelenka nodded, and came over to sit on the other side of the bed. Elizabeth stirred, and her hand tightened around his again, but she did not wake.

-oOo-

Lorne opened the stairwell door a fraction and peered down the hall. He could see the door to the astronomy lab was closed and guard free. "How's it looking, McKay?" he whispered.

Though the monitors were showing the two hour loop back in control, Rodney had access to the live feed. "They're still in her lab down on T1. I'll holler if they leave."

"Good." Lorne nodded to Ronon and Carson and they left the stairwell.

-oOo-

They'd left John alone for almost an hour now, and for that he was grateful. He knew it was an hour, because the heart monitor had a clock on it. He had his head tilted to the right and was watching the shadows of the few clouds that remained as they scuttled over the forest covered mountains in the distance. Between that and the steady beeping he was able to block out the pain from the dozens of burns from the cattle prod. He'd lost count how many times Kolya nailed him, and the room reeked of singed fur right now. There was one ache he couldn't completely block, and that was only because the slow throb from his groin kept time with the heart monitor. He lifted his head once and looked, and the swelling wasn't bad then. But now that his legs were slightly flexed at the knee, and his struggles earlier had loosened the strap across his thighs a little, the strap had slid down several inches and the edge was cutting into his testicles. That was making it hurt more, and every little movement he did made the strap _wiggle_…. And he'd been doing an awful lot of moving until up to an hour ago.

He could really use another hit of that numbing crap, whatever it was.

It never really did knock him out, as much as he wished it had, so he was awake for every little thing. Chaya was gung-ho on samples – blood samples, hair samples, skin samples. He had several patches on his arms, stomach, and legs where she just cut a sliver of flesh out to drop in a jar or test tube, and she clipped one claw off on his left hand so far down it bled like crazy. Hell, she did the equivalent of ripping out a fingernail, and then she wondered why he screamed. Psycho bitch. She wanted one of his fangs, but Kolya managed to persuade her to wait until later. Of course that was only after he had tried to bite her fingers off three times and got nailed by the cattle prod each time as punishment.

Oh, he had plans for that cattle prod.

Then she wanted the sperm sample. John closed his eyes and snarled silently. She tried, for nearly a half an hour she tried. Didn't matter that he pretty much shriveled at her touch, and when she tried to work him she'd brush again his balls and that would just send bolts of agony clean through him. Then she started to get pissed, like it was all his fault, and finally just used a syringe.

Yeah, he did black out on that one, come to think of it.

John opened his eyes and watched shadows until his heart slowed down again. It was a good thing she wasn't here right now – he was partially hard from the need to urinate. She'd probably try to take advantage of it. He should probably just go, but there was something about pissing himself that seemed more humiliating than the other things that had been done to him. He managed not to, even with the pain of getting the claw clipped down to the core, and he sure as hell wasn't about to do so voluntarily. Him and his damn pride….

The door to the lab opened and John's heart shot up again. That made the throb in his balls shoot up as well, and that softened his dick a tad. Then he caught the scents in the moving air and closed his eyes. When he opened them, Carson was right there.

"John? Can yae hear me?"

"Hey, doc," John croaked out. "S'that really Lorne and Ronon I smell with you?"

"Aye, it is." Carson glanced at the two as they came into view. John rolled his head the other direction and looked at them as well. "Let's get these straps off."

"Careful with that one," John hissed out, but too late. Carson just _touching_ the damn thing had him growling in agony. Then the pressure eased and he went limp.

"I'll hold it out of the way, you cut," Carson said to Ronon. A second later he was flipping the nylon strap away and Ronon was cutting the other two. "You're a tad swollen," Carson said as he unzipped his kit and pulled out a syringe. John just chuffed at the comment. He pulled the cap off with his teeth, spit it out, and injected it into the i.v.. When John started to pull his arm away Carson said, "Something for pain."

John just answered with a sigh and relaxed.

"You didn't change back," Ronon said as he sheathed his knife, his expression fairly unreadable. But his eyes were hard, and they kept flicking to the blood that sat in small pools near the edges of the table.

"Funny, don't feel so naked this way," John replied softly. He kept his eyes shut as the pain began to recede, but the urge to pee was still as strong as ever. "Say, I don't suppose there's a bucket or anything handy? I really need to take a piss, and I'd prefer not to do it on myself." Now that the strap was off his chest, he was realizing just how much that part of him hurt, too, but at least it was phoning it in long distance. And his forehead. Good God – he felt like someone had flattened a beer keg on it.

Carson glanced around while he was taking the i.v. out of John's arm. All he could see were test tubes and small jars. There were some cabinets against the far wall. "Look over there," he said to Lorne and Ronon. A moment later Lorne came back with a fairly large, long necked beaker. "Perfect," Carson said and took it.

"We'll wait by the door," Lorne said, and he and Ronon backed off. They exchanged a sickened grimace before they took up watch.

John tried to sit up, but Carson put a hand to his chest and held him down very little pressure. "Not yet. Let me check these wounds first, and I have some burn salve." But first he tilted the table up a few inches, then held the beaker for John. He brushed his balls accidentally and John growled and showed very white teeth. "Sorry. You are pretty swollen. Did they do something else?"

"Sperm sample. Syringe," was all John said. Then his bladder was empty and he sighed. "Thanks."

Carson was very tight-lipped as he quickly made sure the wounds he could see were no longer bleeding, then carefully got some burn salve on the other marks – he counted twenty-seven, the majority on his stomach, and the black fur there was spiky by the time he was done. Then he pulled off the monitor patches and tried to take as little fur as he could. "Can yae sit up now?" he asked, his voice barely controlled.

"Yeah." John managed to get upright with only a little help from Carson. Swinging his legs around was a different matter, and he wound up cupping himself in order to do it without growling too loudly. He had to continue doing that once he got his feet on the floor and took a few hesitant steps. Then Carson was sticking another needle in his arm. John just looked at him.

"Thought you might need a bit more of the good stuff."

"Thanks." He was wobbly and wound up having to drape an arm over Carson's shoulder, but he was walking. His claws clicked noticeably on the tile of the floor as he took careful steps. And since he was close to Carson, he had no trouble hearing Rodney's voice over the doctor's earpiece.

"Get out of there, now – Chaya is heading back up. Kolya is heading for command."

"Affirmative, doc," Lorne replied. He glanced at John. "You okay to roll?"

John was finally able to let go of himself and Carson – the pain killers were working good, now. "Yeah. No problem." He voice even sounded stronger than before, but not by much.

Carson was rummaging in his pack. He pulled out an ice pack and handed it to John. "For when you're someplace safe." Then he had a small black case in his hand. "You three, git. I have something I need to take care of."

"Doc…." Lorne started.

"Go. I'll be fine. I'll head back to Rodney's as soon as I'm finished."

Lorne continued to stare at him, then he sighed. "Be careful, doc." Carson nodded back. Then Lorne looked at John and held his hand out. "I'll take that – I have pockets."

The corner of John's mouth rose and his whiskers stuck out. "Yeah, that's one disadvantage to my true form." He handed the ice pack over.

Ronon snorted. He patted Carson on the shoulder before they headed out.

Carson watched until they disappeared into the stairwell, and he noticed John was still walking pretty carefully despite the heavy dose of pain killers. He hoped there wasn't any permanent damage. Then he ducked back into the lab. "Rodney, let me know when she's to the door," he said as he unzipped the black pouch. He pulled the single syringe out, pulled the cap, and tapped the bubble out.

"Okay," Rodney said in his ear a moment later. "Uh, what are you doing?"

"Bringing some balance to the universe," Carson replied and waited.

_End Note: Oh, lordy, what does he have planned? .._


	25. Chapter 25

_A/N: Wherein Chaya gets it..._

Chapter 25

Chaya had her attention focused on a computer read-out as she stepped into the astronomy lab so she didn't notice the table was empty right away. When she did look up, she stopped dead in her tracks, and Carson was right there behind her. He clamped a hand down over her mouth, pulled her in, and sunk the needle into the side of her neck. She struggled and kicked, but Carson was a stout fellow and held on tight, and soon she began to wind down. When she was just making sluggish movements and no longer making any noise, he lowered her to the floor. Her eyes were still open and staring at him with clear recognition and a hell of a lot of hostility, however.

Carson situated his face right above hers and smiled. "I've just injected you with tetradotoxin. Are yae familiar with it?" Her eyes grew a little wider and she did manage to make a small noise in the back of her throat. "Ah, somehow I figured you would be. Puffer fish venom – very dangerous. Got it from the toxicology lab the other night. They've been doing some very interesting research with it in conjunction with cryogenics, but I digress. Oh, don't worry, it wasn't a _lethal_ dose. However, your heart should be slowing quite a bit right about now." He put a hand to her throat and nodded. "Yes. Perfect. A few more minutes and it will be barely detectable. Pity, that. First person to find you will probably think you're dead. And you and I will both know that won't be the case, now, will we?"

He stood up and carefully returned the syringe to the case and put it away. "Oh, don't worry, love – I'll make sure you're put in cold storage for a few days. Hopefully you'll expire on your own before I have Dr. Biro do your autopsy." He rubbed his hands together and gave her another smile. "Well, now, have a pleasant evening." Then after quickly gathering up what samples were still in the room, Carson stuck his hands in his pockets left.

Chaya's eyes remained wide open.

-oOo-

John had to stop at every other landing for a quick breather. The pain killers dulled the aches, but he was still pretty weak for having not eaten for nearly three days and the effort of just going _down_ stairs had him panting. And to top it all off he shifted – _that_ was a heavy draw on reserves, too. He wanted nothing more than to just curl up and _sleep_, right there, and damn the consequences.

"C'mon – we have to keep moving," Lorne said from below. Ronon was taking up the rear, and he looked like he was about ready to just flop John over a shoulder and haul ass.

"Sorry, haven't eaten in awhile. Trying not to pass out here," John replied through his teeth, his hands wrapped around the railing in a death grip.

"Jesus, why didn't you say something?" Lorne replied. He dug in a pocket of his vest and pulled out a Powerbar. He unwrapped it as he came back up a few steps and handed it to John. While John folded it in half and just stuck the whole thing in his mouth, Lorne glanced up at Ronon. "You got one?"

Ronon was ahead of him. He dug the spare in his vest out, did the same thing Lorne did, and handed it to John.

John nodded his thanks and they continued down the stairs. He was just swallowing the last of the second bar when Lorne stopped them with a raised hand.

"Rodney, were about to enter the dead zone. How's it looking?"

"Gotcha. So far, things are clear. Kolya is still in control, and, uh, Carson is wrapping up his, um, loose end. And he's all right," he added before Lorne could ask. Then a second later he added, "He's leaving now."

"Copy. Talk to you on the other side." Lorne glanced at John and noticed some of the cuts on his legs and arms had started bleeding again. "You gonna make it down okay?"

John just nodded, but from the way he held his lips drawn in, he didn't look so sure himself.

Lorne frowned. "Okay. Let's move."

John began counting progress in number of landings. After four he actually began to feel a little stronger and was moving a little easier. By the time they passed the sixth he was able to walk without scraping his claws along the floor. He didn't like how he was leaving drops of blood in their wake, however, but they were small and hopefully not too noticeable.

As they got to the seventh landing they were back in radio contact with Rodney. And Rodney was panicking.

"…Something's up. I repeat – Kolya is onto us. Damn it, major, come in!"

"I hear ya, doc," Lorne replied. "What's he doing?" He motioned for John and Ronon to move, and started down the stairs at a faster clip.

"He's found the video feed has been tampered with," Rodney replied. Then there was an audible intake of breath. "Oh, crap! Uh, Lorne – they're coming to get me. I'm switching locations and will be back shortly."

"Understood. We'll be getting out on SL2 in a second. Keep me posted. Lorne, out." He glanced back briefly and without a prompt they all picked up speed.

-oOo-

Kolya stepped into control and noticed Peter Grodin was still on duty. That made three double shifts this week. The explosion had all of the techies' schedules messed up, and it was good to see some people took their jobs seriously. He nodded to the man as he walked past and headed for security. As he stepped in he saw Ford was sitting behind the major's desk and going over some paperwork that was left unfinished. The young man glanced up and appeared quite shocked to see him. Everyone on duty started to stand but Kolya said, "At ease, gentlemen." They all settled back down, but were far from relaxed as they returned to their duties. That made Kolya smile faintly.

He walked over to the bank of monitors. "And how is our other guest doing this evening?" he asked as he glanced at the feed from quarantine.

"Meditating like normal, sir," the man replied, his tone rather bored.

Kolya made a sound in the back of his throat. That she had stayed so calm and unflappable since being confined irritated him more than anything else, and for him proved she wasn't human at all. As soon as they were done with Sheppard he thoroughly planned on cracking that serene armor she had wrapped around herself. He let his gaze wander over the other feeds for a moment before something started to bother him. It took a couple minutes, but his subconscious finally let its suspicion be heard and Kolya was back studying the screen to the quarantine rooms.

The door to the woman's cell was undamaged.

He quickly walked the length of the bank of monitors and checked a select few screens. The last one confirmed it – the feed had been tampered with. The astronomy lab was completely empty on that last screen and the telescopes were in their original positions. "Lieutenant!" he shouted.

Ford was in the room in a flash, his expression actually … frightened. "Sir?"

Kolya whirled on him. "Who has been in here besides security?"

Ford's mouth opened and closed a few times, then he finally said, "I don't know, sir." He looked past the colonel at the four men on duty. "Have you seen…."

"Dr. McKay," one of the men said. "And I think Dr. Zelenka was here a day ago fixing a server, sir."

Kolya growled. "You men, with me," he said and looked at Ford and three of the men on duty. He turned to the last one. "Call Sgt. Bates – have him take a team to bring both men here immediately." Before the man even replied Kolya was heading for the door to control.

Peter looked up in alarm. "Colonel, something wrong?" he asked, his surprise very genuine. He quickly and surreptitiously killed the video tap he had up on his screen before the colonel got close.

"Bring internal sensors up, now," Kolya snapped.

Peter hopped over to another console and brought the system up on the huge flat monitor above that station. Life signs appeared all over, but as they went through the city level by level three in particular were moving quickly in the stairwell, and as Kolya watched they exited on SL2. He nodded to Ford and they jogged from control.

Peter waited patiently for Rodney to come back online, then relayed the message.

-oOo-

"Oh, crap!" Rodney blurted. "Uh, Lorne – they're coming to get me. I'm switching locations and will be back shortly." He cut Lorne off in mid reply as he disconnected his laptop, swept everything up into his arms, and headed for the door. He quickly spun around, went back for the zat, and was out the door. He went for the stairwell, went up one floor, and headed for a room he knew was unoccupied and unlocked at the moment – John's guest room. He was gasping for breath as he reconnected, but it didn't stop him from cussing as the computer took forever to reboot. Then he was back on and Rodney slumped back in the chair. "I think I'm going to puke," he muttered as he held a hand to his chest. That was too much excitement. "Okay, I'm back." He quickly scanned video feed. Then he got Peter's message. "Oh, crap." He called up a feed from the internal scanners as well. "Major, you're going to have company."

-oOo-

Lorne kicked the door to the stairwell open and didn't give a shit if it was heard. "Go go go," he said as he drew his gun, not the zat, and provided cover for Ronon and John.

"This way," Ronon said and led John into a side hallway. Lorne jogged backwards a few steps before he spun and caught up with them. He heard the elevators ping a second before he got Rodney's message.

"Where…." John only managed to gasp that one word out before Ronon directed them into another side hall, this one longer, and it took everything he had to keep moving. He wound up crouching low and digging in with everything he had in his powerful legs, and it made for a very smooth, gliding, _inhuman_ gait. Ronon glanced back at him once and grunted.

"Greenhouse," Lorne replied from behind. "No cameras, lots of hiding places, exit to the outside."

"They've split up," Rodney reported a moment later. "Two men are going to try to flank you from the left."

Lorne just grunted in reply as he caught up to John. Then gunshots rang out and Lorne grunted again as something punched him in the back and a bullet went through his leg. He staggered forward, and would have hit the floor face first if John hadn't reached out and grabbed him by the back of his vest and hauled him back up like he didn't weigh any more than a child. Then Ronon was shoving both of them into a side hall and they bounced off a wall and landed in a very undignified heap.

John blacked out briefly, but when he could hear and see again he could smell blood and heard Ronon returning fire with his nine mil. He shook his head and sat up. He could see Lorne pulling himself up into a sitting position opposite him, his teeth bared in pain, and he was bleeding pretty heavily from his thigh.

Ronon ducked back as return gunfire blew chunks from the corner. He ejected his spent clip and loaded another. He was bleeding from a couple places as well, but they appeared to be grazes.

"Shit!" Lorne said as he pulled his belt off and wrapped it around his thigh. "So fucking close." He twisted the leather and hissed.

John scrambled to his feet. "How far?" he gasped.

"Sixty fucking feet," Lorne replied. "Next hall on the right."

John glanced quickly down the hall and saw it. Then he ducked back as more gunfire came their way. Ronon just held his hand around the corner and fired a few return shots.

Lorne was unwrapping a field dressing one handed. He glanced quickly to his left – he knew that hallway just wrapped around and headed to another that led to the foyer. They were trapped. Then he noticed John was staring at the wall, specifically the big divot they both left in the sheetrock when Ronon shoved them. John reached out and sunk his claws through the thick vinyl wallpaper and bared his teeth in a grin.

"Sixty feet. Yeah, I can do it," John muttered softly and started pacing, wall to wall.

"Oh, hell no," Lorne said. But he snapped his mouth shut as John looked at him – his eyes were wide and completely dilated, and he was growling with each rapid exhale. He looked … _insane_. "Oh, fuck," he said, and Ronon turned to see what was going on. His eyebrows rose.

Only one other time in his life had John put himself in a berserker state – it was when he broke that pilot out of the Taliban camp, and he was in human form when he did it. It helped, and it was messy, but he still remained fairly _restrained_. But he was in his true skin now, and he could feel the adrenaline running through him, felt his fur standing on end, his muscles humming. He jogged a few dozen feet down the hall, turned, and simply said to Ronon and Lorne, "Duck." Then he took a few running steps and _launched_.

He impacted on the wall above Lorne's head, actually took a couple running steps along the wall on all fours, and shot out into the hall. Ronon barely ducked in time, then he was laying down cover fire. John met the opposite wall and ran along it for a few strides, his claws tearing out chunks, then leapt again as shots tore up more chunks where he just was. He twisted in midair and barely felt something burn across his mid back, then he impacted with the opposite wall. Three more powerful strides and he was launching again. This time something went through the heavy muscle of his left calf, then his shoulder clipped the corner and he spun into the hall that led to the greenhouse. He landed hard and slid for a good thirty feet, then his claws were clattering on tile and he was heading for the wide doors that were opening as if by magic.

Lorne sat with his mouth open – it had all happened so unbelievably _fast_ – and stared at the wall in the hallway. He could tell every place John's left hand dug in for purchase – there was a little splash of blood from his missing claw forming a ragged exclamation point. His brain was still trying to register what he'd just witnessed when running footsteps came from the hall to his left. He turned his head and saw Ford and another man approaching, P90's raised. "Stand down," he said softly to Ronon. "He's away."

Ronon glanced that way and seemed about to protest, but he dropped his gun and went to his knees. Only then did he realize he was bleeding, and it just made him smirk.

Kolya arrived a moment later. "Watch them," he said, then jogged after Sheppard. Alone.

Lorne noticed Ford was a little wild eyed. "You can lower your gun, lieutenant. We're not going anywhere." He applied pressure to his leg wound and bared his teeth – it wasn't as bad as he first thought. When he glanced back up he could see Ford was, well, _torn_. _Oh, sure_, now _the kid has a crisis of conscience,_ he thought bitterly. _Huh, wonder if he has a thing for Keller…._ Then he glanced at Ronon and saw he was watching the kid as well, and he had his hand on the activated zat. _For his sake, he better not, or else Ronon will rip him to pieces_, he decided. "It's not too late, kid," Lorne said calmly as he settled his hand closer to his own zat. They wouldn't know what they were – that was a bit of an advantage.

Ford continued to look unsure, and his unease was rubbing off on the other two men. Finally the kid lowered his weapon. "Stand down," he said. "The major's injured…."

Ronon took him and the man next to him out. Lorne got the third.

"'Bout damn time," Lorne said and tightened the belt and dressing on his leg. Ronon held a hand out and pulled him to his feet.

"C'mon, he's going to need help," Ronon said as got one of Lorne's arms over his shoulder. "Didn't you see me activate the zat when I dropped?"

"In all honesty, no. I was too busy bleeding."

Ronon grunted. "I'll forgive you, but just this once." They headed for the greenhouse.

_End Note: Spider-John, Spider-John, does what ever a ... Hmm, nope - just doesn't have the right ring to it._


	26. Chapter 26

_A/N: Now ... it's Kolya's turn._

Chapter 26

The wonderful smell of earth and organic fertilizer and growing things filled John's nose as he charged down the stone path. He barely had time to register the enormity of the place – hell, there were full grown _trees_ here, for Christ's sake – before he darted to the side and cut through carefully tended beds with barely a mark to show his passing. He was in his element now, the lighting was dim and provided ample shadows, and he was still riding the high from his berserk state. Pain wasn't registering, yet, but he knew it was going to be there with a vengeance when it did. He had to resort to a four legged gait due to the gunshot wound in his leg, but it wasn't slowing him down. He cut down another path for a ways, then was winding through plants again. The place reminded him of fancy botanical park it was so lush and organized, but a few quick glances up showed suspended walkways and balconies and what must be hydroponic units heavy with vines and other plants. He decided he needed a good vantage point to watch for anyone entering and headed for a tree. He scrambled up the trunk without any problem and was soon blending in with the shadows in the upper branches.

And he was in time to see Kolya enter. The man was studying the floor, no doubt following the trail of blood John was surely leaving behind. He glanced down. His leg wasn't bleeding too heavily, but he could feel the damp and matted fur on his back from that graze. _Crap_.

"You can't hide from me," Kolya yelled. "I will find you." He had his gun drawn and he stepped off the path. "You're bleeding quite heavily, you know. Easy to track."

John shifted his position around the trunk and climbed up a few more feet. His head cleared a particularly large branch and he heard a clatter, and when he looked up he froze. There was a hole in the main trunk, and plastered up against the bark next to it was a pixie woman. She had her back pressed against the trunk, and her dragonfly wings gave another quick nervous twitch.

_Oh, crap, don't dust me in the eyes_, John thought as his own eyes widened in alarm. That shit burned worse than pepper spray. She was so close, and her eyes grew so wide he could tell they were the color of new leaves. He slowly held his finger up to his lips in a shush gesture. "I'm not going to hurt you," he whispered. She edged a little further away from him but stayed quiet.

"You should have stayed in the plants," Kolya said as he found the path again.

John glanced down. _If only it were darker_…. He looked back at the woman, his whiskers coming forward in a relaxed manner and practically brushing her. "Do you know where the light switches are?" he barely breathed. She nodded once, slowly. "Could you turn them off by yourself?" Understanding came to her face. She glanced down at Kolya, too, and when she lifted her head her face was lit by a fierce grin. She nodded again, then shot off in a clatter of dragonfly wings and managed to keep her iridescent dust trail down to nothing. She was really scared if she could do _that_.

Kolya must have heard her, because he looked up a second later. Then he spotted John's eyes reflecting in the dim light and fired.

John dropped from the tree and landed, hard. That finally woke up his pain, and it took a few seconds for him to get moving. When he did, a shot just missed him and hit the trunk. Then he was scrambling through the undergrowth, but he was still quieter than Kolya.

The lights went out.

John sent a silent thanks to the pixie and started moving slower, quieter. It was easy to keep track of Kolya as the man blundered his way through plants. But then he got quieter, too, and John could hear his boots scrape on stone a second later. Between his sense of smell and the soft light of the full moon on the glass of the greenhouse, John had no problem whatsoever finding his way; Kolya, however, was probably all but blind until his eyes adjusted. John smiled in the dark and maneuvered to a position where he could see the colonel as he stalked through the undergrowth.

Kolya stood frozen in place, and he was slowing pivoting and listening as hard as he could. "I know you're close," he said, still full of confidence and swagger. "I imagine you're in quite a bit of pain right now. And weak – I saw the blood. You've been hit, at least twice, maybe more."

John let out a low, burbling growl that ended in a distinctive jaguar cough. Kolya whirled toward the sound and fired, but he was way off mark – human ears weren't that accurate at pinpointing sound. John silently crept around, belly low to the ground. "You're right, you know," he said while still moving, his voice more growl than anything else. Another shot came his way, but he was already long gone from the spot as he circled.

Kolya smirked in the dark. He circled, too, but his movement was slower than John's. "You shouldn't admit to weakness. Not a very noble trait."

"Who said I was weak?" Another shot rang out and John was alarmed that it was actually a yard away but still high. And he was afraid to admit he _was_ getting weak – pain sang through him as the adrenaline wore off and forced him to move even slower. Then he heard a clatter and rustle in the distance, and Kolya faced away from him. A second later Kolya let out a strangled cry and swatted at something in the darkness. John saw the sparkles in the moonlight – the pixie was distracting Kolya for him. Hopefully, she pixed him right in the fucking eyes.

But then the doors opened and light spilled briefly from the hall. John froze but wasn't in any danger of being spotted since the light barely made it into the greenhouse proper. It did make Kolya turn back around, however. "Lieutenant, find the lights," Kolya yelled. Silence answered him. Then he was buzzed again, and spun back around.

John took the opening. He burst from the undergrowth and charged, and Kolya spun and fired blindly just as he leapt. John felt two impacts before he was on Kolya and took him down, hard. He caught the colonel's gun hand in his left and _squeezed_ as he pushed away. Bones snapped loudly and Kolya fired one more time before he dropped the gun from his crushed hand. The claws and fingers of John's other hand were buried up to the second joint in Kolya's stomach, and he squeezed and _twisted_ with that one as well. Kolya let out one short strangled cry as the pain hit full on and he stiffened and choked in shock.

John was lying on top of the colonel, his own breath coming in gasps. He leaned forward and got his muzzle right up next to Kolya's ear. "My ancestors were once worshipped as gods," he breathed. Kolya took in a shuddering breath and made little gagging sounds deep in his throat as John twisted his right hand again. John slid a little to the side and braced his left arm against the ground. "And _this_ was their sacrifice." He tore his hand free from Kolya's stomach, then with every bit of strength he had left plunged his hand through the wound, up past his diaphragm, sunk his claws into Kolya's heart, and _yanked_.

When the lights came back on a second later John roared and held the heart in front of Kolya's staring eyes before he dropped it. He slowly got his arms underneath him and crawled down the stone path to be away from the monster. The blood was roaring in his ears now, and he made maybe a dozen feet before he completely lost all strength and collapsed onto his side. As his blood slowly pooled on the stone he watched his fur retreat sluggishly into his arm and chuffed ruefully. He'd always wondered what form he'd be in when he died. "Looks … like … human," he muttered and then laughed weakly. "That'll … piss off … the old man." His eyelids were too heavy to keep open any longer, and he closed them on the sight of abused tan flesh and smiled. Then he was spiraling away, and for a brief moment he felt like he was back behind the controls of an F-16 and there was nothing but wide open sky all around.

In his mind's eye he threw his head back and just bellowed in pure joy.

-oOo-

Lorne heard the gunshots and thought fuck all finding the lights. He ordered Rodney to turn them back on. _Now_. They came up a second later and a deep roar came from somewhere ahead of them. But the first thing he and Ronon saw were the bloody hand and paw prints on the ground. They saw the marks John left in the hall where he slid, and these just made him even more worried. "Sheppard! Where are you?" Lorne yelled as loud as he could. Silence greeted him. "Go," he said to Ronon. The big man nodded, but just as he turned to follow the tracks he drew up short as a pixie flew up in his face.

"What the fuck?" Ronon yelled as he ducked his head and brought the zat up in a heartbeat.

The little pixie didn't seem threatened at all. Instead she bade him to follow. "Quickly. He needs help," she said, her voice high and clear but not cartoonish in the least bit. Then she shot off again. Ronon glanced wildly at Lorne then followed the trail of glowing dust at a run. He could barely keep up with her.

Lorne tapped his earpiece. "Rodney – get a med team down to the greenhouse, immediately."

"Already on its way," Rodney replied instantly.

"Good." Lorne limped after Ronon, but he decided to follow the stone path instead. When he came around a twist in the path and saw Kolya, he sat down, hard.

_End Note: Do not fret, dear readers. To paraphrase Monty Python, he ain't dead yet. :) Ooops, probably should have left off the 'yet'._


	27. Chapter 27

_A/N: And now, a year later... Naw, just kidding. Put down the torches and pitch-forks. Please._

Chapter 27

Zelenka picked at the piece of tape holding the cotton ball in the crook of his left arm and finally decided to hell with it. It had been several hours since he gave blood – it was surely safe to remove by now. He ripped it free, wadded up the thing, and stuck it in his pocket. The little puncture was red and there was no bruising, so he rolled his sleeve back down and sighed. He sat in a confiscated office chair in the infirmary in a position where he could see both Elizabeth's heart monitor through a gap in the privacy curtain around her bed and the entrance to post-op. He glanced at his watch – it was after lunch, but he wasn't hungry. But he could stand for some more coffee. He ran a hand through his wispy hair, sending it in even more directions, let out a breath that rattled his lips in an exhausted raspberry, and stood. He glanced over Rodney to ask if he wanted some coffee, too, and saw the man was canted back in his chair, head lolling to one side and a line of drool just starting to run out of the corner of his mouth. _Oh, for want of a camera_, he thought and chuckled as Rodney let out a soft snort. _Would make wonderful departmental screen saver. Could paste Santa hat on for holidays…._

Rodney was tilted back against the foot of Lorne's bed. The major was out as well – which was a good thing. He had been giving orders up to the point they wheeled him into surgery for the gunshot wound in his leg, and even after they brought him out of post-op he picked up right where he left off. He and Rodney had apparently put together quite the little file on Kolya and Chaya and all the crap that had been going on, and one of his first orders was to send that off to Washington and the Project's Board. Word had yet to come back, and it was wearing heavily on the major.

Ronon was sitting backwards on a chair, his forearms across the back and his forehead resting on them. He lifted his head and blinked when Zelenka made the noise. His eyes were still very bloodshot and the rash around them was better, but not by much. Who would have thought a pixie would consider being called Tinkerbell a grievous insult? And that the pixie dust itself was as potent as bear spray? Zelenka barely held back a grin at Ronon's discomfort. "I am going for coffee. Can I get you some?"

"Naw, I'm good," Ronon replied and yawned.

Then Zelenka looked at the only other awake person in the room. She sat cross-legged on one of the beds, her eyes fixed on the door to post-op, and in the light of the infirmary they had a definite metallic hue. He could feel the tension radiating off of her, but her face was set in a calm mask. "Can I bring you some more tea?" he asked.

Teyla blinked, then smiled at him. "Yes, that would be very nice. Thank you."

Zelenka nodded as spastically as Rodney and headed for the tiny room that served as the staff lounge.

Teyla watched him leave. She had been very impressed with the man's empathic abilities – they were quite astute for someone who had had no formal training. He and the currently snoring scientist were the first people she saw after John was taken away. She knew something terrible had happened to John – he was at the very edges of her perceptions and all she could really sense was a vague unpleasant pressure that didn't feel much different than a bad sinus headache. Then at one point he did come closer, and the pain and anxiety nearly sent her to her knees. Then, nothing. Several hours later the door to her cell unlocked, and when she cautiously stepped out she found the two men waiting for her. They were both unarmed, exhausted, and worried, and when she asked where John was, that worry practically became a physical presence in the hall. She knew right then she could trust them, and when the smaller of the two sighed in relief, she could feel him read her and relax as well. They brought her straight to the infirmary, where they all sat vigil. Teyla could not sense John at first, but over the past few hours she began to slowly perceive more from him, and it was nothing but pain. She concentrated on sending calming thoughts, but until she could come in actual contact with him, it would be fruitless.

She could feel eyes on her, and she turned her head to meet Ronon's somewhat amused gaze. Now that she'd had a chance to study his aura, she could see the Pretender in him. The corner of her mouth flicked up. Yes, definitely ogre. She was also looking forward to a rematch with him so she could wipe the smirk off his face once and for all. He caught her by surprise before….

Zelenka returned with two steaming cups, one of which he handed to her. She thanked him and continued to smile faintly as she sipped. She was also looking forward to speaking with Radek alone – she had never met a human with such strong abilities and would like to learn more about his family. She smiled warmly at him and held back a laugh when he smiled somewhat shyly back. Yes, that was going to be an interesting conversation, indeed.

A half an hour later both she and Zelenka let out a gasp, and Carson came out of post-op a second later. As he shuffled tiredly towards them, he scratched his scalp, then ran a hand over his stubble and yawned. The hem of his scrub pants and the cloth booties covering his shoes had spatters of drying blood on them, and when he stopped he glanced down and finally noticed them, he frowned disgustedly. He pulled them off his shoes and wadded them up, then shoved them in his pocket.

Zelenka reached over and shook Rodney's knee. Rodney snapped awake with a few incoherent noises, then swore when the legs of the chair hit the ground and startled him even more. Ronon got up and touched Lorne, but Rodney's little outburst had brought him awake. He blinked and ran a hand down his face and focused on Carson. "What's the news?" Lorne asked groggily.

"He's in recovery, doped to the gills," Carson replied and rubbed his neck. "We had a bugger of a time finding where he was bleedin' out. By the way, thank you, Radek, for getting blood donors lined up so quickly. We used all but two units."

Zelenka nodded, his hand unconsciously going to his own draw mark.

"Both bullets punctured his bowels, and I had to remove a small section of his colon and small intestine. It was a good thing Kolya had him half starved, or it would have been a right ugly mess. As is, we still have to watch him closely for peritonitis and septicemia. It's going to be bugger-all for a few days, and he's going tae be on some heavy meds for awhile, but I expect a full recovery."

The tension in the room dropped palpably.

"I would like to sit with him, doctor," Teyla said as she stood.

"He's in no condition …."

Teyla held up a hand. "His kind react to trauma by shifting – it is a survival instinct. No doubt you have all witnessed this?" She gave everyone a stern once over, and no one met her eyes. "I can help keep him calm until you have established adequate pain control. I am certain you do not wish him to tear himself open again?"

Carson drew in his lips but nodded. "All right. Good point. Come with me, then. The rest of you – get some rest. Especially you, major – you lost a good deal of blood, too."

"Yes, doc," Lorne said as he settled back down.

Carson peeked in on Elizabeth – she was still sleeping and her vitals looked stable. Then he was leading Teyla back to post-op. "So, you're familiar with his kind," he said somewhat casually. "Are you…?"

"No, I am not a changeling," she replied. She could feel his curiosity burning within him, so she calmly said, "I am Sidhe."

Carson was reaching for the door control when she answered, and he missed it and ran into the door. "Bloidy hell!" he said, both registering surprise and pain in the words. "You are?" he said as he held a hand to his cheek, his eyes watering from the pain.

Teyla nodded and ran her hand down the door control.

"Well, now," he said as he stepped through the wide door with her. "I really shouldn't be surprised – I've seen werepanthers and pixies and vampires in the last twenty-four hours. A member of the Faerie folk shouldn't surprise me. Bloidy hell."

Teyla slowed and let out a pained sound in the back of her throat. Her hand went to her mouth as she fought to get the wave of pain she was bombarded with under control.

"Aye, he's a right mess," Carson said softly.

Keller was just removing the intubation tube from John, the anesthesiologist watching vitals, and she glanced back at them the second it was free. She frowned in curiosity at them.

"This young lady is here to help," Carson said in explanation.

Teyla took in a deep breath and smiled very faintly. "I have not been called a young lady in well over a century. Thank you, doctor," she said as she stepped up to the gurney and looked down.

Half of John's face seemed to be nothing but purpling bruise, the rest deathly pale skin that made his dark beard stubble stand out in stark contrast. There were numerous tubes and drains coming out from underneath the thick dressings across his stomach, and just as many tubes leading into his arms bringing whole blood and other fluids. There were bandages wrapped around both forearms, his thighs, and his left leg was sitting up on a few pillows, the calf heavily wrapped, and more tubes went under the folded sheet that covered his groin.

Teyla had to step aside then as a couple nurses appeared with fresh, warm blankets to cover him. As she waited she watched the pulse in his throat leap wildly in accompaniment to the annoying beep of the monitors, and his breathing was fast and shallow. They finished and she stepped back, gently pulled the blanket back from his chest, and placed a hand over his heart. She didn't cry out when the pain hit her, but she did double over. She felt the doctor's presence next to her a moment later. "I am all right," she assured him as she straightened back up. "You will need to up the pain medication – his kind metabolizes them faster than … humans." She took a few deep breaths and centered herself, then placed her other hand lightly on his forehead, her thumb gently stroking the spot between his eyebrows. It bothered her that she was not picking up any thoughts from him yet, and hoped it was because of the anesthetic. Then she closed her eyes and concentrated on channeling calming energy into him as the effects of the anesthetic slowly wore off.

Carson and Keller watched closely and continued with their post-op routine. After a few minutes his pulse began to slow and they could actually see some of the tension leach out of his body. Almost an hour later Teyla opened her eyes and gave the doctors an incredibly exhausted smile. "He is sleeping now. I will remain close in case you need any assistance with him." Then she promptly sat down.

Carson and Keller got under each arm and helped her to her feet. They led her over to one of rolling stools in the room and sat her down. She waved them off and smiled apologetically. "I am fine – just tired. I have not done that in awhile. It is very draining."

"We'll set ya up in a bed shortly," Carson said. "What exactly did yae do?" He glanced towards John briefly and saw his vitals were holding steady.

"Empathic redirection," Teyla replied. "You could call it psychic Valium. It helps with trauma."

Carson grunted. They could all use a little of that right now.

-oOo-

Late the next afternoon the helicopter was sent to Vancouver to bring back some very important guests – a general from Washington and a suit appointed by the Board to investigate the goings on of the last year and the current series of events. Lorne was up on crutches already, much to Carson's protests, but he really didn't have much of a choice in the matter, and he and Rodney were waiting for the chopper when it arrived. Rodney even dug out his one and only suit, but he had to borrow a tie from Zelenka – the only two he owned were stained. He personally thought the burgundy paisley thing was absolutely hideous, but it actually went quite well with his blue-gray suit and several people had complimented him on it. But he was still nervous as hell, and as the rotors slowed he smoothed his jacket and for the twentieth time said, "Are you sure this looks okay? I mean, it doesn't scream 'clipped from the upholstery of a questionable bordello' to you, does it?"

"It looks fine, doc," Lorne said and tried to stand as straight as he could with the crutches. "Paisley is a classic." He was wearing his dress uniform – he didn't want to take any chances, either. The two guards with him were trying very hard not to snicker, but a quick glance from him shut that down right quick.

The rotors stopped and the little group approached. One of the guards jogged forward and held the door open and the two passengers stepped out onto the helipad. Lorne offered a quick salute and got a casual one in return. "General O'Neill, Mr. Woolsey, welcome to Atlantis. Hope the flight out was uneventful."

"Uneventful, long, and incredibly boring," O'Neill replied. He glanced up at the clear sky, his eyes already hidden behind sunglasses. "I thought the weather out here was supposed to be, well, gloomy."

"It normally is, three hundred days out of the year," Rodney replied. "But an unexpected high pressure front moved in from the south, and produced unseasonably warm temp…." His words trailed off as O'Neill gave him a pained grimace. Rodney twitched and grimaced himself and rubbed his forehead. "It warmed up."

"Huh," O'Neill replied.

"That's all fine and dandy, but we don't have the time to stand around and chat about the weather," Woolsey replied as he switched his briefcase over to his other hand and checked his watch. His bald head gleamed in the sunshine. "We have a lot of information to go over in a short amount of time. I trust everything is in order?"

"Yes, sir, it is," Lorne replied.

"Good." Woolsey just started walking briskly for the doors.

O'Neill clapped his hands together and rubbed them briefly. "Okay, then. Major, shall we?"

"Yes, sir." As they followed Woolsey Lorne said, "I'll have my men make sure your bags get to your rooms in case you want to freshen up after your trip."

"Ah, don't worry about it. We're going to get right to work – get this unpleasantness out of the way."

"Understood, sir."

Woolsey stopped at the doors, turned around, and flashed the stragglers an impatient frown.

"Yeah, as soon as possible," O'Neill muttered. "Oh, hey – I hear the food is pretty good here."

"It's excellent, actually," Rodney replied. "Much better than Area 51."

O'Neill glanced sideways at him. "I thought you looked familiar. McAvoy, is it?"

Lorne clamped down on his lips as Rodney grimaced. "It's, it's McKay."

"Oh, yeah. That's right." He raised a finger. "Didn't you have a thing for…."

"Time's wasting, gentlemen," Woolsey said, then clomped on inside.

"After you, sir," Lorne said and held the door for the general. Then he and Rodney were exchanging pained grimaces. It was going to be a long week.

_End Note: And they feed Woolsey to Michael!! Heh, bet they're gonna be considering that in a few hours..._


	28. Chapter 28

_A/N: And for you hurt/comfort junkies... :)_

Chapter 28

For seven blurry days John's universe narrowed down to three things – pain, nightmares, and the jungle. The pain was a brain numbing, heart pounding, constant presence that sat on his stomach and made every breath hell. The nightmares were less frequent, but no less agonizing, and their theme was always the same – Kolya and Chaya torturing him. He was either in the lab, strapped to the table, or down in the cell with the vampire watching and cheering them on. In one particularly vivid one, he was strapped to the table, split open from throat to dick, and Kolya and Chaya were happily digging around in his guts. They would pull something out, make pleased little noises like two kids with the world's best toy box, then show it to him. But his hands were free, and _every time_ he'd snatch back whatever organ they were holding and try shoving it back in, _they_ would be back in up to their elbows, pulling something else out. Then he started to feel a horrible pressure, and both of them backed off when two immense clawed hands pushed up from his belly, grabbed hold of the gaping sides of the incision, and stretched it wider. Soon the top of a flat panther head filled the space, and John recognized the pattern of darker markings against the midnight fur. His father's amber eyes narrowed reproachfully at him, and he started screaming and babbling as he pushed and pushed and tried to get that fucking head shoved back down into his guts.

Then the smell of leaves and earth washed over him and the images faded to black. When the nightmares hit, they always ended with that wave of scent, and peace would flood him immediately thereafter. Usually the scent was followed by the soft susurrus of rain on a jungle canopy, then soon he was padding along silently down a game trail, the feel of loam under his pads as he stalked his territory. Sometimes he would be climbing great mounds of stone long since claimed by the jungle, their friezes and purpose long since forgotten by men, and other times he'd be in the drier, more open pine forests of western Montana. But in either case, he would be at peace for awhile, until the pain intruded and started the cycle all over again.

Eventually there came the time he awoke, and the pain wasn't a ten-ton elephant camped out on his navel, and he could actually form a coherent thought. And that thought was, _Fuck, it still hurts and I can still smell the jungle._

Each shallow breath he took sent fire through his guts, and as he laid there he came to realize there actually was a spot on him that didn't hurt – his left elbow. After a dozen more breaths he decided that his ears didn't hurt, either. That was when he had his second truly coherent thought. _They have me on some really good shit_. He chuffed, and the sudden jump of his diaphragm and abdominal muscles made him moan deep in the back of his throat. The scent of leaves and fresh turned earth grew stronger and he cracked open gummy eyes. He had to blink a few times before they focused, and when his vision cleared he found Teyla looking down at him. Huh – it was _her_ scent he was picking up all this time. He took in another breath, and this time his brain processed other things as well – soap, fabric softener, tea, and hospital. She put her cool hand on his forehead, and he closed his eyes and groaned because it was the most _wonderful_ thing he had ever felt in his life.

_Hello, John,_ Teyla said, and her voice floated through his mind like a cool breeze on a summer night. _It is wonderful to finally see you awake._

John opened his eyes and blinked until his vision cleared again, but did not speak, in either voice.

"I will let Dr. Beckett know," she replied, a hint of a worried frown crossing her features. Then she was gone, but her scent lingered.

John rolled his head a little to the left and all he could see were machines. And tubes. To many fucking tubes. He focused on the ceiling again, and absently wondered how they got the tiles to look like weathered sandstone. Never noticed that before. Then new but familiar scents washed over him and he was blinking up at both Carson and Keller a second later. The bruising around Carson's cheek and eye was down to a few dirty brown and yellow smudges, and the stitches were gone from the gash. It was a thin red line, now, about three inches long. Keller's circles were gone, and she just seemed … perky. God, he could not deal with perky right now.

"Here, now – good to see yae with your eyes open and actually focused for a change," Carson said and smiled. "Yae gave us quite a scare – been in and out with a nasty fever for the last week." Then his expression grew serious and he lowered his voice. "Do you remember what happened, son?"

John's eyebrows furrowed and he didn't need to hear the heart monitor to know his pulse shot up a bit. Before his breathing got too out of control he felt a cool hand on his bare shoulder, and the coolness seemed to spread through his entire body a second later. He rolled his head to the right and saw Teyla standing there. He closed his eyes and kept them shut until his pulse slowed again. Then he was back staring up at the ceiling, the faces just in his peripherals. He felt a hand on his other shoulder, this one warm and strong and reassuring. He turned his head back towards Carson.

"Get some rest, John. You're safe now," Carson said.

John gave his chin a faint lift and closed his eyes. He fell asleep shortly thereafter, and for the first time in days didn't have a nightmare.

-oOo-

The rest of the day for John was just a series of naps. Teyla was there every time he opened his eyes, and even when he _didn't_ open them he could smell her comforting scent. She spoke to him several times, but he never replied. He offered her a few faint smiles, but that was about all he could really muster. But she would just reassuringly smile back to his silence and not push it, and put a hand lightly on his shoulder or forehead. She hid her anxiousness well – the few times he did pick it up it was such a brief, tenuous thing he wasn't sure he'd sensed it correctly. The same went for Carson or Keller whenever they popped in for a quick check. They smiled, too, but they couldn't hide what they were really feeling like Teyla could, and each time the raw emotion left him drained to the point he'd doze off shortly thereafter.

He could only imagine what she was picking up from him right now, and it was no wonder she had dark circles under her eyes by the end of that day.

When John woke up the next morning he was all alone within his little curtained off area that passed for a private room. That suited him just fine, really – must be the cat in him, because when he felt miserable, and especially now since he was thinking a little clearer, he just wanted to be left the hell alone. He pulled his right hand out from under the blankets and rubbed his face, then scratched at his week old beard. He'd noticed the day before they didn't have a gown on him, and when they checked his gut he deliberately kept his eyes closed. Now he could delay the inevitable no longer, and, with a shitload of trepidation, pushed the blankets down into his lap and looked down. He stared for nearly a minute at the line of staples that started about three inches below his belly button (but not through it) and ended just below his sternum. His entire belly was brown and yellow from bruising, and he could see dozens of red spots in clusters of two all over his belly. It took his brain a second to remember what caused them, and his heart monitor shot up noticeably. There were also two other stapled incisions low on his belly to either side but not even with each other, and sticking out of his left side was about four inches of tubing that ended in a squeeze ball a quarter of the way filled with pinkish fluid. Then he reluctantly lifted the blankets. And promptly let out the breath he didn't realize he was holding when he saw everything was still intact. He settled the blankets back and ran his fingers down the staples – the skin was oddly numb around them and felt tight, and he couldn't help thinking of it as a zipper.

He was in the process of counting the things when the curtain opened and Carson and a nurse stepped in. John looked up guiltily, his hand mid-stomach and his eyes huge, but all Carson did was offer a tight-lipped grimace. "There's sixty-seven of them in the main incision," Carson said as he pulled the table next to the bed out of the way. He reached behind John and pulled out some blue gloves from a dispenser. "You were in surgery nearly nine hours – you were shot twice in the gut, nasty bit of damage that." As the nurse closed the curtain Carson pulled the stethoscope from around his neck and placed it in his ears. "But we got yae fixed up," he said with a flash of dimples.

The nurse sat a small pan with some supplies in it next to John's legs. She offered him an incredibly kind smile as she reached for a pair of gloves herself. John lowered his hand and just kind of quirked his eyebrows at her. And she surprised him when she actually blushed a little. Then Carson was listening to his gut and he just laid his head back in the pillows and watched. A few places were still very pressure sensitive when the doctor pushed gently on them, and John hissed a few times.

"Sorry," Carson said and he pulled the stethoscope off and draped it back over his shoulders. "You're going tae be tender for awhile yet, but I think it's safe to finally get this drain out and start yae on some broth."

John didn't say anything – he wanted to, he had a ton of things he wanted ask, but when he would go to open his mouth to speak, he just … didn't _want_ to. He drew in his lips and nodded faintly.

Carson cocked his head a little and a brief frown crossed his face. Then he carefully undid the tape holding the tube in place, swabbed the area, and grabbed a hold of the ball. "I'm going to be honest with you – this is going tae feel horrible." Then he pulled the drain out with one smooth, relatively fast motion.

John's head pushed back into the pillows and he fisted the blankets as he drew his lips in and made a noise deep in the back of his throat that turned into a growl. He got both hot and chilled as he felt the thing slide out of his guts, and a second later a shadow rippled down his arms. Then it was over, and he could feel sweat break out everywhere. He gaped in horror at the thing Carson held in his hands – it was over a foot long, flat, about an inch wide, and full of holes. Then he just went limp and panted.

Carson and the nurse were staring at him with similar expressions. Then Carson blinked and dropped the thing in the garbage. "Catheter is next – then no more unpleasant crap, all right?" he said as he wiped down and put a small, clean dressing over the hole.

John just gave him a shaky thumbs-up. The catheter was _nothing_ compared to that drain. Then they were taking out the staples, and besides the occasional pinch now and then it wasn't that bad, really. Carson tried to coax some words out of him – told him about all the visitors that his personal watch-elf Teyla had turned away earlier while he was sleeping – but after awhile he gave up. He couldn't even get a grunt out of John, and by the time they had replaced the staples with a line of steri-strips, John was starting to doze off again.

Carson pulled his gloves off, then pulled the blankets back up over John's chest and even lowered the head of the bed a little. He grabbed the panic button for the pain med and wrapped it around the railing close to John's left hand. "If yae need a hit, don't hesitate."

John nodded tiredly up at him, then fumbled for the button a second later. He could feel the doctor's worry, so he offered him a rather weak lopsided smile. It didn't seem to help, and he could still feel anxiety coming off the man, so he slurred, "S'fine." Then he was dozing off to a wave of relief, most of it Carson's.

The nurse took the pan and garbage away when she left, but Carson stayed for a few minutes and just watched the monitors. He felt a presence, and turned to see Teyla had ducked in to stand at the foot of the bed.

"Did he speak yet?" she asked quietly. Carson nodded, and she sighed. She came over to the other side of the bed and lightly brushed the hair from his forehead. She caught a flutter of thought, the beginning of a dream, and smiled. "I was beginning to worry."

"I wouldn't be surprised if he stays quiet for awhile yet," Carson replied just as softly. "He's been through hell."

Teyla nodded. "But we will be here for him."

"Aye, we will."

-oOo-

John had his first bowl of broth for lunch, along with some yogurt, followed shortly by his first visitors. Teyla wasn't going to let anyone in at first, but he let her know it was fine with a lift of his chin and a thought. _It's okay._

_Are you sure?_ She was smiling over those two words, the first he'd said to her since he woke up.

John just waved and nodded.

Teyla pulled the curtain aside and Lorne hobbled in, shortly followed by Ronon. They both seemed incredibly uncomfortable to be there, but then it could have been from the warning scowl Teyla gave them as she left. Lorne ducked his head as she went by, then scratched the side of his nose. Then he looked at John and grinned. "She's, ah, been very protective the past week. Threatened to hand us certain parts of our anatomy several times if we disturbed you."

What was it Carson had called her? "Watch-elf," John said weakly and snorted. Eating that sad little amount that he did for lunch really wiped him out.

Ronon smirked. "I don't think she likes us very much."

"Yeah, well, understandable," Lorne said. He was using a cane instead of crutches, now, and he wrapped his hands around the handle and grimaced. "How you feeling?"

"Shitty." John got a wave of guilt off of both men that made him swallow. The short sentences made his throat hurt, and he reached for his covered cup of water. It was just out of reach, but Ronon pushed it closer until he could wrap his fingers around it. He about put the straw up his nose before he got it situated and took a sip. "Not your fault." He rested the cup on his chest.

"Yes. It was." Lorne looked down at his hands. "I should have…." He didn't get any more out before a deep growl from John shut him up. His head snapped up and he could see John's lip curled up on one side and showing a fang.

John pointed at him with his left hand, the index finger still lightly bandaged at the tip and shaking just a tad. "No. Stupid. Shit."

Ronon let out a snort, then smacked Lorne in the arm. "Told ya."

Lorne shook his head. "All right, all right. Woulda, coulda, shoulda. Fuck it." Then he smiled. "Glad you're alive, Sheppard."

"Yeah," Ronon added. He crossed his arms and grinned, too. "I've been wanting to ask – where'd you learn to walk on walls like that?"

"Comic books." John took one more sip of water and set the cup back on the table. He almost missed, but Ronon nudged it touch closer with a foot. Then he was leaning back into his pillow, and the wave of relief and happiness he could feel coming off the two men was as intoxicating as whatever shot into his veins when he pressed the panic button. Damn, he hated being this weak – every little emotion from anybody left him twice as wiped.

"That was the coolest thing I think I have ever seen in my life," Lorne added with a big grin. He had watched the security feed of it dozens of times now, and it still just left him with his mouth hanging open. Then he saw John's eyelids were drooping. "Well, we'll let you get some sleep. See ya tomorrow?"

John just lifted a hand and they turned to leave. Ronon flashed him one last smirk and a wave before he ducked under the curtain. _Yeah, they're both pretty good guys_, he thought as he closed his eyes. _Especially for an ogre…_.

That evening Carson made him get up and try to walk a little. They got him in one of the floppy gowns and maneuvered into a walker, and John was thankful the infirmary held only one other patient and they were behind their own little curtained off area at the other end. His left calf ached, his stomach burned, and he barely made twenty feet before he was shaking and sweating and cussing. Teyla was the only one who heard the cussing – Carson, Keller, and a nurse just saw a very tight-lipped grimace and heard very faint growling. Then they turned him back around and he was gratefully collapsing on his bed and fresh sheets a few minutes later. "That. Sucked," he said and promptly blacked out for a moment. When he opened his eyes a few minutes later he was tucked back in all nice and sound and someone must have hit his panic button, because he was floating. Then Teyla was holding his water for him, and she had quite the smirk on her face.

_I do not believe I have heard those combinations of words before,_ she thought. _And I have been around for quite awhile._

John ducked his head and grimaced sheepishly. "Air Force," he said.

"Ah." She sat the water aside. "And your knowledge of the mating habits of livestock?"

"Discovery Channel." He scratched at his beard and grimaced and tried really hard to ignore her raised eyebrow. "Really."

Teyla nodded. "That is what all the vargyr claim."

"Hey!" Then he caught the wave of amusement roll off of her and smiled. _And I didn't know the Fae actually had senses of humor_.

Teyla's smirk returned. "We do. We have a long tradition of comedic parables we teach our young. Such as, why did the vargyr cross the road?"

John growled as the curtain parted and Carson stepped in to check on him. He had to have heard Teyla's comment, because his dimples were showing. "Let me guess, does the answer have something to do with sheep?" he said as he popped open the PCA pump front and replaced the empty cartridge with a new one.

"Ah, you have heard it before," Teyla replied and smiled.

"I'm Scottish – I've heard every conceivable sheep joke known to man, or any other species, for that matter." He frowned briefly. "Most of them from Rodney, now that I think about it."

John scowled. "Isn't teasing a patient against some code?" he mumbled, but then he found himself fighting to keep the scowl as Teyla laughed. It was as musical as her inner laugh. He finally relented, and the corner of his mouth crooked up. Then he looked at Carson. "S'pose you get goat jokes, too."

"Here, now," Carson said. "Settle."

John just grinned tiredly as he found the controls for the bed and lowered the head a little. Then he was scratching at his chin and yawning. "Say, could I …."

"Get a shave?" Carson finished. "Certainly. I'll send Shelly by in the morning. Now, get some sleep. You're doubling your distance tomorrow." The grin on his face was downright evil as he ducked back through the curtain.

John groaned and closed his eyes.

"Good night, John," Teyla said and brushed his temple lightly.

John sighed. Then as he heard the curtain rustle he thought, _Because he was stapled to the chicken._

_To the were-chicken,_ Teyla corrected, and her laughter floated back to drown out his groan.

_End Note: Several years ago my mom had to have emergency surgery for a perforated ulcer. They basically split her open, pulled everything out, hosed it off, and stuck it all back in. I had the joy of being present when they pulled her abdominal drain out. Now I have a pretty strong stomach, but watching that dang near made me hurl. Never thought I'd be using that in a story... _


	29. Chapter 29

_A/N: Hmm, don't have anything smart-assed to say for a change. Need more caffeine..._

Chapter 29

Carson made him walk before he got his breakfast, and he and Keller got to hear a few of those word combinations that only Teyla heard the night before. At least he did more than double his distance, and when flopped back down on his bed Keller gave him a very stern frown. "I didn't realize pilots were so … creatively verbose." But the gleam in her eye made John think she was taking notes.

"Learned that … from mechanics," John panted out. He was drenched, and stank, and wanted a shower, and was hungry, and grumpy, and hurt…. As soon as he got the blankets situated he pulled the floppy gown off. "Hate those things," he growled as he wadded it up and threw it to the foot of the bed. He leaned back and held a hand over his eyes – to top it all he had a headache and his pulse was making his temples pound. Then a cool touch settled on his arm, and he was squinting at Teyla a second later. He could feel her worry, but her expression showed nothing but calm. He lowered his hand and gave both women a faint apologetic shrug. "Didn't sleep much." He got a quick stab of guilt from Teyla.

_Nightmares?_ she sent. Last night was the first night she hadn't slept in the infirmary.

He nodded faintly and scratched his cheek.

Keller glanced briefly between them and just knew she missed something. She picked up the gown. "After breakfast we'll see about getting you a shower and some scrubs."

"Thanks," he said. And Keller lived up to her word. He didn't have to walk to the bathroom, thank God – they took him there in a wheelchair, and he was glad there was a stool in the shower to sit on. He had to have help getting the scrub top on with the i.v. still in his arm, and the pants felt uncomfortable against his stomach, but hell – it was so much better than one of those damn gowns that made him feel like a total invalid. That helped with the mood.

And he damn near dozed off during his shave, which was impressive considering he was slouched down and leaning back in the wheelchair at the time, his feet propped up on the toilet, and wasn't really all that comfortable. When Shelly, who happened to be the nurse that blushed at him the day before, first pulled out the straight razor, his heart damn near slammed its way up through his collarbones. Teyla popped her head into the bathroom briefly to see what his alarm was about, then relaxed as John grimaced sheepishly. He was a little twitchy around sharp things at the moment, and Shelly promised to be gentle. And she was – that and her own practically Zen calm was why he nearly fell asleep.

He was back in his bed, alone, half asleep and finally comfortable, when he felt a conflicting wave of irritation and indifference hit him from outside the curtain. He lifted his head just as Carson pushed the edge of the curtain away and glanced in at him. "Are yae up to some visitors?" he asked, and John caught the implied _you don't have to say yes if you don't want to._

John was actually curious, so he nodded sleepily and found the controls to raise the head of the bed a little more.

"All right, gentlemen," Carson said to someone out of view. "He's still in bad shape, so if he says no more, that's it. Got it?"

"Got it, doc," someone drawled back.

Carson nodded, then held the curtain aside. Two men entered, one a bald man in an expensive suit, the other a graying man with stars on his shoulders and wearing what John recognized as special ops BDU's. His face seemed hard, but the calm, somewhat bemused indifference was coming from _him_. It was the suit that was uptight. Figures.

"You call if you need anything," Carson said to John, one eyebrow raised. Then he gave the two men one last warning scowl before he ducked away. He missed their faint flinches.

John just raised one eyebrow and calmly looked at them through half open eyes. They'd taken him off the heart monitor, so they had no idea his pulse was hammering in his chest. Good thing Teyla wasn't there right now, or she'd probably charge in and start knocking heads together, no questions asked.

Suit cleared his throat, and right then John could sense a touch of unease under the irritation. "I'm Richard Woolsey, and this is …."

"General Jack O'Neill." He actually offered his hand, and John shook it. Woolsey just kind of scowled at him, but didn't offer his hand. The general rolled his eyes faintly and shook his head.

_Yup, Dick fits,_ John thought and settled his hands lightly on his stomach. The brass seemed all right, though.

And it was the general who jumped right in, before Woolsey even opened his mouth. "We're here 'officially' investigating the, ah, recent events and just wanted to ask you a couple questions. You up to it?"

John nodded, his expression neutral, but inside he was growling and showing his fangs.

Woolsey sat his briefcase on John's table, and O'Neill reached out and caught John's water before it went over and moved it out of the way. He flipped it open and pulled out a yellow legal pad, flipped through a few pages, then finally looked at John. "Have you ever had any contact with either Col. Acustus Kolya or Dr. Tatiana Chaya prior to … your first coming to Atlantis?" His question faltered when John narrowed his eyes and a very soft growl came from him. Woolsey backed up a step, and O'Neill even raised his eyebrows and jumped faintly.

John shook his head.

"Then how do you suppose they, ah, found out about you?" O'Neil asked hesitantly.

John shrugged. "Service record?" He'd wondered that himself – God knows they had a medical record of just about every conceivable body fluid taken from him. If they were looking for genetic markers…. He saw O'Neill nod thoughtfully.

"How about Lt. Michael Kenmore?" Woolsey asked after taking a few notes.

It took John a second with the name – so, he was a service man, too – then shook his head. He absently wondered where he'd been turned.

Woolsey jotted another quick note. The he dropped the pages and frowned, and John could feel an actual wave of anxiety come off the man. He fixed John with a stare that was somewhere between concerned and constipated. "As an official representative of the Board of Directors for Project Atlantis, I want to make it perfectly clear that what happened here in no way reflects the true goals of this project, and that they – we – regret any …."

John clamped his lips down, and was breathing so hard he could feel his nostrils flaring and was one step away from growling again. O'Neill noticed and jumped right in, "What he's trying to say in bureaucrat-eese," he said and flashed Woolsey an irritated scowl. "That kind of crap is _not_ Project policy, and we're incredibly sorry you got sucked into those two whack-job's personal agenda." Then he rocked back a forth a few times. "And _I_ want to personally apologize for not doing something sooner, too. I had no idea he was that unstable. None. And he managed to keep everything under wraps with means that were just … not right."

The wave of pure disgust and disappointment and _regret_ John felt roll off him hit him as hard as a slap. The answering surge of adrenaline made him tense up and hurt bad enough he sucked in a breath and hit the panic button. It took him a moment to get his breathing under control, and the two men must have taken his response as pure anger because he felt a touch of panic. But mostly from Woolsey.

"You've been found innocent of any wrong-doing in Kolya's death," Woolsey blurted out. "No charges will be…."

O'Neill sighed and rolled his eyes. "You couldn't just say 'self-defense', could you?" he interrupted and glowered at Woolsey. "Simple. You should try it sometime." Then he had his eyes focused on John's. "And you can rest assured that Dr. Chaya won't be doing anything to anything … any_one_ ever again. Hell, she'll be lucky if she can go without diapers for the rest of her life." Then he noticed John's inquisitive frown. O'Neill waved a hand up by his head. "She apparently had some kind of seizure – now has severe brain damage and has been shipped to a special facility on the mainland. Guess spent three days in a body bag before they realized she _wasn't_ dead. Sad oversight, really, especially since things were so crazy there for awhile." He caught Woolsey staring at him out of the corner of his eye and swiveled to face him. "What? It was."

The general _looked_ disgusted, but John could feel otherwise. Woolsey even let off a hint of, well, justified amusement even though his face was set in a perma-scowl. John just lifted his chin briefly and settled back into his pillow. "What about the major?" he asked, his voice a little hoarse. He reached for his water, and O'Neill could see it was a little too far away and nudged it closer.

"He won't be facing a court martial, if that's what you're worried about," O'Neill replied. "His actions last week helped his case immensely. However, he'll probably be a major for the rest of his career, and he'll be spared getting shipped to McMurdo."

John closed his eyes briefly and took in a deep breath of relief as that weight lifted off his shoulders. He'd have hated to see the man destroyed for following orders. But then, not following them could be equally as damning.

Woolsey snapped his briefcase shut and startled John. "That was really all I had. Well, thank you for your time, Mr. Sheppard. Again, I want to express my regrets, and wish you a speedy recovery." He saw O'Neill frown at him, and scowled right back. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have a flight to catch. General." Then he was gone.

O'Neill stared at the gently flapping curtain for a moment, then turned his gaze on John. He rocked back and forth a few times, his lips drawn in, and it was clear something was turning over behind his eyes. John just calmly drank some more water and sat his cup back on the table. "I read over your service record," O'Neill finally said. "If I had my star then, the outcome would have been a whole hell of a lot different."

John blinked at the man, then ducked his head briefly. "So, is there anything I could say to help the major's cause?" he asked quietly. "There should be some kind of commendation." He shrugged with one shoulder. "In my opinion."

O'Neill shrugged, too. "I'll look into it. Get back to you. I'll be here for awhile yet – serving as acting head of security until the new guy gets here. He's … away at the moment." The little wave of amusement was at complete odds to the general's current expression. "Col. Caldwell, good man. He was the other candidate for the position." Then he noticed John's eyes were starting to droop. "Well, I better let you get some rest before Dr. Beckett decides to put _me_ in a body bag for awhile." He actually gave John a little salute before he disappeared on a wave of amusement and a tiny bit of fear.

John wondered what the hell that last bit was about since he felt about as threatening as a kitten at the moment. He lowered the bed and relaxed, and just as he was about to doze off he felt Carson and Teyla briefly check in on him. That was starting to get irritating, but there was no way to escape it. It didn't keep him from smiling, though.

-oOo-

The rest of the day was an endless parade of visitors. Radek was the first to show after lunch, and he brought with him a portable DVD player and the Battlestar Galactica mini-series. "If that proves too much for your focus right now, I have all seasons of Xena. That requires no concentration," he said with a little eyebrow bob. That earned a hint of a reproachful frown from Teyla, and the embarrassed Czech bowed out quickly.

Lorne and Ronon stopped by separately – Lorne wasn't back on active duty yet, and could only stay a minute because he was on a break from showing the general around, helping him learn all the various quirks Atlantis had. Then they were going to the basement. John felt Lorne clamp down on his emotions, but enough leaked out that he knew something was up. But he didn't pry.

Ronon showed up shortly thereafter, and he and Teyla got in a little bit of a pissing match. It started out as a few innocuous little comments about handling surprises, then something about overstepping bounds, then devolved into an outright challenge to see who was the better fighter. They left to head for the gym and John really wished he could see her pound him into the mat. He and Keller exchanged eye rolls as the two combatants stalked out of the infirmary. And about two hours later Ronon was back with a broken nose, two swelling eyes, and a mild concussion. John could feel Keller's amusement from a room away. Teyla was limping, and favoring a shoulder, but was smiling smugly as she checked on him before she excused herself for the rest of the day.

Then John was forced to get up and walk again. He actually lost ground and almost didn't make it back to his bed before he blacked out, and Carson hovered for several minutes until he was coherent again. "I need more than just broth and jello, doc," John panted out. "A big thick ribeye would do. Red meat." And his stomach did growl at the thought. He got a damn protein shake instead. Banana flavored. It was nasty.

Then after dinner he got a very unexpected visitor. John had asked that the curtain be left open a little ways so people wouldn't have to constantly ask if it was okay. He had just shut off the DVD player – he watched the first hour and just couldn't focus his eyes anymore on the tiny screen, plus the intensity was just too exhausting at the moment – when Rodney popped his head around the corner and gave him a crooked but friendly grimace.

"Hey, you're awake! Good."

"Hey, McKay," John said as he closed the cover and pushed it out of the way. He hadn't seen the scientist yet, and it actually perked him up to see him here. But then it could just be the nervous energy that was radiating off him continuously that did it. The air around the man practically _hummed_. "What's up?"

Rodney stepped fully into the opening. "I, uh, would have stopped by sooner but I've been tied up with Woolsey and the investigation. How are you feeling? You, ah, certainly look better."

John saw himself in the mirror that morning. His forehead, right eye and cheek resembled a banana that was about two days away from being perfect for banana bread, he had circles from hell under his eyes, and if it weren't for his tan he'd have no color at all. "I feel better."

"Good. Good." Rodney fidgeted some more, then snapped his fingers. "I brought someone by who wanted to speak to you. Is that all right?"

John nodded. "That's fine." Then he secretly thought, _go away, now - you're wearing me out_.

Rodney motioned to someone beyond the curtain, and a second later a short redhead with surprisingly sad eyes stepped shyly into view. She gave John a little smile, then at his befuddled expression she smiled even wider. She turned to Rodney. "Rodney? Could you give us a moment? Please?"

Rodney seemed a little surprised, but he nodded spastically. "Okay. I'll be in Carson's office if you need anything." Then he ducked back out, and the woman closed the curtain.

She turned back to John. "Sorry, I'm Dr. Katie Brown, head of botany, and no, we haven't met before, John." She stepped up to the side of the bed. "But I have someone who has been dying to speak to you for the past week." Katie pulled her shoulder length hair away from the side of her neck, and the pixie woman from the green house peeked out from behind her neck and beamed at him.

John started visibly, then a crooked happy grin lit his face.

The pixie stepped out onto Katie's shoulder, and the doctor held up a hand for her. She stepped onto Katie's palm, then took flight briefly to land on John's stomach. "John, this is Eira. She's been hiding in my greenhouse ever since she escaped from Chaya's lab nearly three weeks ago."

Eira had hair just a shade lighter than Katie's and was wearing a simple multi-hued blue-green dress that seemed to be made from somebody's silk handkerchief. She held the skirt and gave John a little curtsey. "It is a pleasure to see you are well, prince."

John chuffed softly and dipped his head. "I'm not a prince, and it's a pleasure to meet my rescuer." The little pixie blushed and her wings clattered briefly. "You escaped from psycho Barbie's lab? I'm impressed." The blush deepened.

"My mate, Ifan, and I were both prisoners. I was able to crawl through the bars of the cage, but he was too big."

John got a sinking feeling. "Is he…."

"He is alive," Eira replied with a big smile. "He went into hibernation because of the cold, and she forgot he was there."

"He's in the greenhouse now, recovering," Katie said. "He should be up and about in no time, now that I got Peter to quit lowering the temperature."

"His brother did not make it," Eira said and her smile disappeared. "Ifan saw him cut to pieces," she added softly.

John almost didn't hear her, even with his excellent hearing. He saw Katie frown – she didn't catch it – and he wasn't about to share, not right now. "I'm sorry. Please give Ifan my condolences." He kept his words soft, but his voice was rough and betrayed the anger he was feeling. Then Eira completely shocked the crap out of him by walking purposefully up his chest and planting a kiss on his tip of his chin.

"Thank you for killing the monster, prince of Clan Onca." And she curtseyed again.

John just blinked a few times and fought the urge to rub his chin. Then the corners of his mouth crooked up faintly, his expression incredibly feline. "My pleasure," he replied softly and dipped his head again.

Eira nodded and walked back down his torso until she came to Katie's waiting hand and hopped up. As she was being lifted back to Katie's shoulder John couldn't contain himself any longer. "Did you really pix Ronon in the eyes?" Keller had mentioned something about it earlier today.

Eira tossed her hair back as she stepped onto Katie's shoulder. "Yes. The ogre needs to learn better manners." Then she was ducking back behind a fall of red hair and hidden from view.

Katie grinned at John. "She's pixed a few of my botanists, too. They never learn."

John chuffed again. There were two rules when dealing with pixies – never call them Tinkerbell, and never mess with their gardens. There was no doubt in his mind that even though Katie called it her greenhouse, Eira considered it _her_ garden now. He lifted his chin. "Thank you for stopping by." Katie smiled at him and left.

John settled back and finally rubbed at his chin with a finger. He swore he could feel a little spot tingle, but it was probably just his imagination.

-oOo-

Rodney paused in Carson's open door, his fist raised. Then he knocked rapidly several times and Carson looked up from his computer. "Hey," Rodney said and stepped in. "Got a , uh, moment?"

"Sure, Rodney."

Rodney closed the door behind him and stood there a moment, his hands twitching and his lips drawn in. He finally forced himself to sit, and he corralled his hands by trapping them between his knees. Carson was starting to stare at him worriedly, so Rodney drew in a breath and let his words out in one quick burst. "I'm so glad you didn't follow through with your threat, because that, that, that would have destroyed the man and best friend I know." Then he lowered his head and found the floor very interesting.

Carson just stared at Rodney for a moment, then had to lower his own eyes. "I sorely wanted to," he said softly.

"I know you did – I heard and saw everything." A minute of silence filled the office. "I had to share it with Woolsey and O'Neill. We're the only three who know what really happened to her." Rodney was grimacing miserably, his shoulders slumped and eyebrows practically crawling up the middle of his forehead. "I hope you understand and can forgive me, Carson."

"Aye, I do, Rodney." His voice was barely above a whisper.

Another minute of silence passed. "I can make it disappear, if you want. Just give the word."

Carson raised his head and the fear and concern he saw in Rodney's eyes directed at _him_ brought a lump to his throat. "Thank you – I would appreciate it." His shame at violating his sacred oath would live on in his heart forever – he wouldn't need a reminder.

Rodney nodded spastically and stood. "Be done before you know it." He opened the door, then turned back briefly. "See you at breakfast?"

Carson nodded. "See you at breakfast," he replied and forced a smile. Rodney grinned crookedly back. "Could you close the door on your way out?" he said very softly.

"Sure." Rodney closed it carefully as he backed out, but not before he saw his friend's face just crumple. As he was walking away, Keller was approaching with a printout in her hands. "Ah, he's asleep on his keyboard again. You might want to give him an hour or so before you wake him up." Then he ducked out before Keller called him on his lie.

_End Note: Sniff, sniff. Okay, better now._


	30. Chapter 30

_A/N: Now John finally gets to meet Elizabeth, albeit briefly._

Chapter 30

John spent ten more days in the infirmary. His fever came back and the night it spiked he shifted in the middle of a nightmare and completely ripped the railing from the right side of his bed. Teyla was present – she'd taken to sleeping in the infirmary again when the fever dreams returned – and it took her nearly an hour to get him calm enough to shift back to human. The fever finally broke, and he slept for nearly eighteen hours straight afterwards. He also had to go back to the i.v. for his meals since he couldn't keep anything in his system after that last bout of antibiotics. And to top it all off he had to go back to a floppy gown, but he was so weak he didn't care. It made the accidents easier to clean up.

It was late one night shortly after the fever broke, the lights in the infirmary were dim, and John was actually too tired to sleep when he felt someone approach his little curtained off 'room'. He recognized the scent – up until two days ago the person had been the only other constant presence in the infirmary besides the staff and Teyla. She stood outside for several minutes, then a moment later he heard a quiet sigh just before a dark haired woman stepped through the curtain and smiled faintly at him. She was still painfully thin, and underneath her own natural thunderstorm scent was the faint chemical tang of a recovering junkie. "Hello, John," she said in a surprisingly strong voice. "I thought it was about time I introduced myself, since we were roomies for awhile." John felt the corner of his mouth twitch up, and hers rose in reply. "Elizabeth Weir," she said and held out her hand.

"Heard your name mentioned once or twice. Nice to finally meet you." John offered a weak smile and grasped her hand briefly. His hand felt like it was on fire compared to hers.

"Believe me when I say if I had been in my right mind…." She pushed her long sleeves up on both of her arms and showed him the healed needle marks. "Absolutely _none_ of this would have happened to you." He words were soft, controlled, but she was shaking and the anger and indignity rolling off of her made John break out in a sweat. "Seems we've both been victims of Kolya's madness." She pushed her sleeves back down and crossed her arms. "I've been told you … stopped him."

John had to close his eyes as his own emotions roiled just underneath the surface before he nodded. Then Elizabeth's scent grew stronger, and a second later he felt lips very lightly brush his temple.

"Thank you," she said, and when John finally opened his eyes, she was gone. He slept after that, but his nightmares had a new person in them, sharing his hell.

-oOo-

Once he was able to get on real, solid food he improved quickly, and at every meal he always seemed to have someone sitting with him and munching away on their own snack, be it staff or visitors. The tradition continued even after he was released from the infirmary. Someone was always knocking on his door, seeing if he was hungry and wanted to join them, and if he went early to the mess it was like an APB would go out, and pretty soon there'd be _someone_ sitting down at the table with him. Usually first to arrive was either Lorne or Ronon, shortly followed by Zelenka and Teyla. That made him wonder if something was going on between them, and the one time he raised an eyebrow at Teyla, all he heard was her musical laughter float through his head. And Radek blushed. Turned out she had been teaching him techniques to channel and block his empathic abilities. Nothing scandalous. Shortly after those two would sit, Keller would mosey on in if she wasn't already with Ronon. And always the last to arrive were Rodney and Carson. A couple of times O'Neill even joined them, usually with Elizabeth in tow. Meals grew into two hour long affairs by the time everyone started picking up long since empty trays and going their separate ways. And full of a lot of laughter, too, usually at Rodney's expense. O'Neill was starting to run out of McSomething names to call him, so the rest of them started giving suggestions. Rodney grumbled, and snapped and snarked back, but John could tell it was without any real anger.

The rest of the time John spent alone in his room, resting. He was still really weak, and it didn't take much to wear him out. But someone had slipped into his room the first day and hooked up a DVD player to the plasma screen and left all four seasons of Battlestar, and some smart-ass left all three Spider-Man movies. So he spent some time getting caught up, and one night he had a full room for an impromptu favorite episode marathon after dinner. People brought snacks, and Carson frowned at the beer Ronon put in John's hand, but he didn't object. It turned out not to be such a good idea, because John nodded off shortly after he finished it. When he woke up after his short nap, everyone was still there, completely engrossed in the show.

Ronon smirked over at him when he saw John was awake. "Pussy," he said.

Everyone sucked in a breath and the room got very still.

John just casually shrugged. "Well, duh."

Laughter drowned out the show for a good ten minutes.

-oOo-

It was a week later, and almost one full month since John came to Atlantis, when he stepped out of the elevator on SL2 and glanced around cautiously. Two scientists nodded at him as they walked on by, and one of Lorne's men gave him a once over as he stepped out of security, but no one seemed to care he was on this level. With his hands tucked into his jacket pockets, he slowly retraced his path from that God awful night. The distance was a lot longer than he remembered, and as he got to that last long straight stretch he could faintly smell fresh paint and wallpaper glue. He ran his hand along the wall, the tips of his fingers feeling the bumps and seams when he came to the new sections. He glanced briefly down the hallway to his left where Ronon shoved him and Lorne as he passed on by, then a moment later he was rounding the corner. The entrance to the green house was a lot farther along the wall than he recalled, and when he glanced down at the floor he saw some deep scratches that weren't completely buffed out of the floor yet. And some faint stains.

He lifted his head, his lips drawn in and eyebrows furrowed, then ran his hand down the door controls. He remembered the scent that hit him full in the face, and he took in a deep, deep breath and stepped inside. He certainly didn't recall the little tiled entryway, or the workstations that went off to the right and left of it, but he remembered the stone path. As he stepped forward he caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and turned a little too quickly. It was a tall skinny fellow in a lab coat with dirt smudges on it, and he jumped, but then he just smiled at John. "Going for a walk?" John just nodded, his heart thudding crazily in his chest. "Okay. Please stay on the path."

"Okay," John replied. He did, and about twenty feet in looked up. The greenhouse was three stories high, the peak of the glass maybe making it four. There were three distinct levels, the uppermost ones large flat suspended trays that had to be hydroponics units with walkways threading between them. Large lights hung underneath those and filled the huge room with artificial sunlight that he swore was as warm on his face as the real thing. The place was a riot of plant life, and the smell was absolutely wonderful.

He followed the right-hand path, and when he came around one particular bend his stomach fluttered. But the paving stones had been replaced and there was no way to tell that that was where he ripped Kolya's heart out. He continued on, and roughly a third of the way down the length of the football field sized room he found the tree he was looking for – the bark was still noticeably scored from his claws.

John glanced around, and as far as he could tell he was alone. He took his jacket off, folded it neatly, and sat it on the lip of the raised bed. Then he took off his socks and shoes. He was wearing a black t-shirt and sweatpants – he'd lost enough weight that his loaner pants no longer fit, and a belt was out of the question since any pressure on his gut still hurt like hell. He shifted, took a second to catch his breath, then stepped lightly through the bed and climbed up the tree. The claw on his left index finger was still short and very tender and he had to make sure he held that finger up as he climbed, but in a few seconds he was up by the hole in the trunk. They must have felt the vibration of him coming up the trunk, because two heads were poking out, watching him.

Eira and Ifan were grinning from ear to ear as they came out onto the branch. Ifan had black hair, broad shoulders and narrow hips, and was probably eight inches tall. His iridescent dragonfly wings were nearly as long as he was tall, and he was big for a pixie, that's for sure.

John grabbed a branch above with one hand and dug his toes in for support. He squinted and smiled, and his whiskers almost brushed the pair. "Eira." He dipped his head to her, and she gave him a curtsey. "Ifan. It's a pleasure to finally meet you." He bowed again.

Ifan swept low into a graceful bow. "Likewise, prince."

John rolled his eyes. "I'm not a prince – I have no house anymore."

It was Eira's turn to roll her eyes and sigh, then she reached out and gave one of his whiskers a hard tug. John squinted one eye shut briefly and pulled back. "That doesn't change blood, and you know it." She put her hands on her hips, and a second later Ifan was mirroring her.

John gave them a sheepish grimace and shrugged. "Yeah, well, the family would argue with that. And I'm not here for that crap anyway." He carefully dug in the pocket of his sweats – claws made it a tricky maneuver. "I'm here to bring you a thank you slash house warming present." He held up the little plastic tub of honey on the bare brown palm of his hand.

Both pixies let out happy little gasps and clapped their hands.

John glanced up, then he motioned them to follow with a jerk of his chin. He climbed up a little higher and found a perfect perch for himself. He settled his back into a nice wide v-shaped branch, stretched his legs out, and sunk his toes into the main trunk. He was stretched out comfortably, and Eira landed on his stomach a second later. Ifan joined them, and he had two small carved cups. John opened the top of the packet and sat it on his stomach, and both pixies dipped their cups in.

And they both let out contented little sighs a second later. "That is some good shit," Ifan said as he plopped down into a cross-legged position right on John's incision and drained his cup. John let out a little grunt, but that was all. Eira settled down more gracefully.

"Has Dr. Brown been made aware of what you two can do for this place?"

"Oh, yes," Eira replied as she refilled her cup. "The Sidhe Lady and I had a talk with her. She is very excited." She drained that and gave out a little hiccup. She covered her mouth and giggled. Ifan nudged her, and she shoved back. He belched, and then they both giggled.

John had heard pixies got drunk on honey, but he'd never seen it before. He grinned.

"I am really going to like this place," Ifan said. "No cats - 'cept you, of course – no unpredictable weather, no faeries." He, of course, was referring to the wee folk with the butterfly wings that were their mortal enemies. "This place is perfect," he said and spread his arms wide.

John's grin disappeared, and Eira noticed. "Will you be staying here?" she asked as she and Ifan refilled their cups.

"No. As soon as I'm well, I'm going home."

Eira looked very sad. "Won't you stay? Please? The Sidhe Lady is."

That took John by surprise. "She is?"

Eira nodded. "She told me she was offered a position with the security force, and that it was too good of a deal to pass up."

"Really, now?" John wondered if it was a legitimate offer, or a hush-up bribe. Then he thought of Teyla, and got a bit of a guilty pang – if it was to keep quiet, she'd be handing whoever made the offer to her their liver. "Huh."

"And _I_ think she likes you," Ifan said and grinned lecherously. That earned him another shove from Eira, and he tipped over on his side and laughed.

John scowled at him. He dug in his pocket and pulled out another packet. "Drink your damn honey."

By the time they slicked the second little tub clean, they were both very wobbly, and Ifan had broken into song. He did a medley of tunes from Monty Python's 'The Meaning of Life', and had a surprisingly good deep voice. For a pixie.

John was trying really hard not to laugh – it made his gut hurt, and he was afraid his jumping stomach would dislodge them and send them to the ground. He doubted neither one of them could fly at this point. "Where were you two living before this?"

"Hollywood," Ifan replied, and belched. "Oh, wait." He put a hand to his stomach, screwed up his face, and managed to recite the alphabet with the next one. Eira smacked him, and he busted out laughing and tipped over.

Then Eira proceeded to shock the crap out of both of them by launching into a flawless rendition of 'I'm Tired' from 'Blazing Saddles'. Both men just gaped at her, and when she finished John said, "Oh, wow. You're a … a tiny Teutonic Titwillow."

Both pixies gaped at him, then just collapsed on his chest in a gale of drunken laughter that bordered on the ultrasonic. _Yeah, must remember drunk pixies and alliteration don't mix_. John cringed, but he finally cut loose and was laughing as well. He crossed his arms to keep the pair corralled, and laughed until he could feel tears running off the fur on the sides of his face and into his ears. They wound down, and a few minutes later Eira and Ifan were snoring softly in the artificial sunshine dappling his chest. John took in a deep breath and on the exhale did something he hadn't done in probably twenty years.

He purred.

Eira snuffled into his shirt and let out a contented little sigh, while Ifan rolled over and snuggled up next to her. Their wings clattered together briefly then just drooped in total relaxation.

_Yeah, I could get used to this,_ he thought as he repositioned his feet and got more comfortable. Then he heard quiet giggling, but this time it was from overhead. John looked up through the branches and saw Katie Brown on a walkway maybe thirty feet above them. She had a hand over her mouth and was still laughing and shaking her head. He wondered how long she'd been up there, and he gave her an embarrassed little wave. She waved back and continued on her way. John was glad his fur hid his blush.

About an hour later his drunken companions began to stir. He slowly sat up and they carefully climbed up onto his shoulders and buried their hands into the fur on his neck. Since they were still in no condition to fly he climbed back down to their branch and set them gently down there. They gave him big happy smiles, and Eira even leaned forward and planted another kiss on him, this time on the top of his furry nose. Then they went into their den, no doubt to sleep off the rest of their honey hangover.

John started back down, and about ten feet from the ground just pushed away from the trunk and dropped. When he landed he doubled over, his arms wrapped around his stomach. _That wasn't smart._ He heard someone snort, and when he raised his head he saw Carson stretched out on his back on a bench, his arms under his head, frowning at him. "How long you been there, doc?" John grated out as he stayed slightly hunched over – the jarring from his landing really woke a few things up that hadn't bothered him the past few days.

Carson sat up and swiveled his legs around. "Oh, not long, really. I got to hear the beginning of 'It's Christmas Time In Heaven' as I went by on my walk. Could hear the drunken laughter when I was on the other side of the path." He got up. "You probably don't need to hear me say yae shouldn't have done that."

John drew his lips in guiltily and shook his head. He closed his eyes and shifted back, and it took him a minute before he could straighten back up again. "I'm okay," he said to Carson's worried frown. He looked down, one hand still on his stomach, and noticed for the first time the little sticky hand prints on his t-shirt and what looked to be a tiny drool spot from Eira. That brought a huge goofy grin to his face and he actually chuckled.

"Now that is good to see," Carson said and smiled himself. "Were those the pixies I heard with you up there?"

John nodded as he carefully sat to put his socks and shoes back on. "Eira and Ifan. I'll introduce you to them when they aren't hung-over."

"Huh." Carson glanced up. "Bloidy hell." Once John got his shoes on his smile did fade. "Would you walk with me, John?"

John could feel Carson's mood change as he picked up his jacket and put it on. "Sure, doc." They walked in silence for several minutes, long enough for John to realize that it was too quiet in the greenhouse. It needed bird song. He could hear bees once in awhile, but it definitely needed birds.

"All of Kolya and Chaya's research has been destroyed," Carson finally said. "As well as the recording of what happened in the astronomy lab that night."

John took in a very deep breath and let it out in a relieved sigh. They followed the path in companionable silence for another few minutes.

"I don't know if anyone has told you, but even though I'm the CMO of Atlantis, I'm a geneticist."

"I did not know that," John replied.

Carson nodded. "For years I've been mapping an odd little variance in the eighth chromosome – some people have it, but most do not. Completely recessive, doesn't do anything as far as I've been able to determine. But the mysterious little bugger is there, and it's always very consistent in its coding." He stuck his hands in his pockets. "It wasn't until recently I started seeing it crop up again, and the variance in the samples has been, well, very limited, even more so than in the other examples I've found." He glanced sideways at John. "You might say they're the most 'pure' examples I've come across."

John stopped, and turned to face Carson. He frowned, but it was in curiosity.

Carson ran a hand up over his hair and scratched his scalp absently. "Kolya and Chaya were certain that humans and these Pretenders were two completely different species. That one little gene tells me that we are more closely related than they realized. And until I come up with a better name, I've started calling it the Pretender Gene."

John's eyebrow rose a tad.

"I have it," Carson said. "That's what got me searching in the first place. There are a few people here who have it as well – Major Lorne and Ronon, specifically."

"Well, my people _do_ have a history of inter-breeding with humans," John said. "_We_ haven't looked upon it with distaste like, say, the Sidhe have. And I know of instances of other crosses among other Pretender races and humans." He was going to have to tell Ronon he was part ogre – the reaction will be so worth it.

"See, that is the number one reason why those maniac's so called 'research' pisses me off 'til I want to scream. They were working under the assumption that humans and Pretenders were two completely different species. If that were the case, then the two _would not_ be able to produce offspring. They, they _completely_ ignored the number one basic rule of genetics. Gah!" He took a couple deep breaths to calm himself down. "Prejudicial psychopaths," he muttered under his breath. Then he looked at John. "I would like to ask your permission to map your DNA – study this gene, see if I can trace it through populations in conjunction with the Human Genome Project. And I promise that you will remain completely anonymous – no one will know you've contributed to the study except us." He gestured back and forth between them.

John drew his lips in and crossed his arms. "_Completely_ anonymous?"

Carson nodded. "What I would like to do is a formal study of the Pretenders, but at the moment just the DNA aspects would be fascinating. We are kissing cousins, after all."

John chuffed. Then he smiled and nodded. "Sure. You have my permission." Then he held out his hand, and Carson shook it. They started back down the path and went around the loop on the far end. The bedrock of the island formed that wall, and the grooves from the drills that marked its surface gave the wall an oddly corrugated appearance. John gave Carson a sideways look. "Did you know I'm about an eighth Sidhe?"

"Really?"

John nodded and buried his hands back in his pockets. "Yeah. My Mom. She was always treated bad because she wasn't 'pureblood'." She was married into House Nahuel for some piddly alliance, and wound up getting murdered later in some stupid power struggle when he was five. That marked the beginning of his attitude, and it eventually led to his banishment. "So that prejudicial crap? Very familiar with it." He caught a flash of worry from Carson, so he glanced at the man and offered him a sad smile. "Might tell you all about it someday."

"I would listen," Carson replied, then clapped John on the shoulder. Nobody spoke again until they were about even with the pixie's tree. "They grow all of our produce here." He pointed up at the hydroponics units. "After the engineering division, botany has the second largest staff. It really irks the hell out of Rodney." His dimples showed. "But don't tell him I said that."

John grinned. "I won't."

"Thank you." Carson grinned back. "And even though I said this earlier, I'll say it again – it's good to see you really _smiling_."

John scratched the side of his nose in embarrassment. "Well, it's been awhile." And the truth of that statement struck him like a sledgehammer. He stopped dead in his tracks, and Carson went on a few steps before he stopped and turned around.

"You all right?" Carson asked hesitantly.

John blinked at him a few times before he replied. "Um, yeah. I am." The corner of his mouth rose, and he chuffed. "And I'm hungry. You hungry?"

Carson nodded. "I could eat lunch now. Shall we swing by and get Rodney?"

"Sure. Though you probably don't have to. He'll get the APB." When Carson frowned at him he explained his theory.

Carson snickered. "I hate to say it, but that does sound like something the major would do." He held a hand over his mouth and made a scratchy sound. "Team to the cafeteria immediately. John is eating alone. Repeat, John is eating alone. Send reinforcements with coffee and dessert." Carson shook his head. "And they call me a bloidy mother hen."

He didn't have the heart to tell John he was right.

_End Note: Now tell me honestly - is it _wrong_ to be jealous of a wee 'lil pixie? Huh? And yes - 'The Meaning of Life' and 'Blazing Saddles' are two of my favorite movies. Oh no, I feel a song coming on... 'Just remember that your standing, on a planet that's evolving, and revolving at 900 miles an hour ..."_


	31. Chapter 31

_A/N: And now the much anticipated scene - John tells Ronon about the ogre in his family tree..._

Chapter 31

Ronon leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed, and blinked a few times. There was a chorus of very soft snickers from around the table. He opened his mouth and blinked one more time before he spoke. "I'm part what?"

John ran a hand over his mouth and tried really hard to clamp down on his grin. Since he couldn't trust himself to speak without his voice cracking, he just kind of nodded/bobbed his head like a total spaz. Teyla saved him by very calmly saying, "Ogre. They are actually a very noble race – they have a tradition of being fierce and proud warriors. Not like trolls." She sneered and shook her head faintly.

"Yeah, baby eaters. Really nasty," John supplied, his voice somewhat strangled. He frowned disgustedly, but his eyes were bright with the laughter he was barely holding in check.

Rodney was leaning back in his chair as well, slightly turned and his left arm draped over the back. His right hand came up. "Huh. And to think of all the time I've wasted calling you Chewie, when I should have been calling you Shrek. Damn."

Ronon glared across the table at the scientist as everyone broke out laughing. Well, everyone except Rodney – he grimaced and swallowed nervously at the murderous look he was getting from Ronon.

Keller had both of her hands pressed to her mouth. "Oh. My. God." She glanced at Teyla and leaned forward. "Do they speak in grunts?" When Teyla nodded, she let out a delighted laugh, leaned back, and actually stomped her feet a few times. Then Ronon was glaring at her, and that just made her lose it even more.

But pretty soon the corner of Ronon's mouth was crooked up in a grin. He shook his head, his dreds swaying. He shrugged. "Well, Great Grampa was a side-show giant. And really, really ugly," he deadpanned.

Other people in the cafeteria were turning to see what all the laughter was about after that comment.

Zelenka had his glasses off because tears were running down his face. "Halloween is coming up – you have perfect theme for costume now." Unfortunately he was sitting next to Ronon, and that comment earned him an elbow. But not a hard one.

"I could dress up as a pre-ogre Fiona!" Keller said cheerfully. "Thanks, Radek." Ronon threw his napkin at her. "Oh! And John could be Puss in Boots."

"Hey!" John's mouth hung open.

"You would have to wear pants," Teyla said solemnly.

"But he's the wrong color," Lorne said to Keller. "He'd have to be his evil twin. Or get a dye job."

"You people are all insane," O'Neill said as he shook his head. He wasn't laughing, but they had learned over the past week he was the king of deadpan. Even better than Ronon.

"I've known that for years," Elizabeth said. She looked like her old self at that moment as she smiled at the group.

"Goofy buggers, the whole sad sorry lot of yae." Carson just shook his head, but his dimples were showing.

The laughter died down, and John was one of the first to sober up. He watched everyone, and the emotions around the table were so relaxed and comfortable it was like watching a family. Not his family, no – hell, he couldn't remember any meals where there was _talking_. Except maybe the formal gathering things, and he had to eat in the kitchen with the servants during those until he was a teenager. He felt the smile slip from his face, and a second later he caught Teyla watching him out of the corner of his eye. He crooked up the corner of his mouth at her briefly and shrugged as he lowered his head.

"Hey, Sheppard – why the long face?" Ronon said a second later.

John looked up and found that end of the table watching him. He gave them a nonchalant wave. "Eh, it's nothing."

"No offense," Zelenka said as he put his glasses back on. "But you look like man who has had his puppy kicked into next week."

_Everyone_ was watching him now. Man, he hated being put on the spot, but after all they've done for him lately, he decided they deserved an answer. He shrugged with one shoulder. "It's stupid – I just…. It's…." He took in a quick breath and lowered his head. "I've been an outsider for so long, it's just … hard to be, well, comfortable. With this." He shrugged again and wished he could crawl under the table.

Rodney was the first to speak. "You're feeling like a social outcast?" He gestured at the table. "Um, hello. Look at who you're sitting with. There's a genius, multiple ph.d.'s, a couple early college graduates, braniacs all – there probably isn't a single person here who wasn't ridiculed all the way through high school." Then his head twitched. "Except maybe Lorne, Ronon, and the general. You guys were probably the jocks that made fun of us, gave us wedgies, locked us in our lockers."

Lorne shrugged. "I _was_ a jock, but being an artist kinda cancelled that out."

"I was the fat kid everyone made fun of," Ronon said. Everyone stared at him. "It's true. They didn't leave me alone until I hit puberty and grew eight inches in one year." He snorted. "And my Mom signed me up for my first Aikido lessons. Then they were afraid of me and left me alone." He stroked his goatee and smirked. "Suited me just fine."

Then everyone was looking at O'Neill. He just glanced around and shrugged. "I had no problems."

Rodney grimaced and thrust his jaw out. "Okay, with the exception of the general, we all…."

"Speak for yourself, Rodney," Zelenka said. "Where I grew up, if you were intelligent and did well in school, it meant that you had chance for decent job and good career, possibly cushy government one. I was babe magnet."

Rodney just stared at Zelenka for a moment. Then he sighed. "Okay, with the exception of the general and the Czechoslovakian Barry White over there…." His words trailed off and he pointed at Teyla. "I bet you were popular."

"High school did not exist when I was young. And my people were always isolationists."

"Huh." Rodney's eyebrows drew down and it took a second for him to get his temporarily derailed train of thought back on track. "Okay, what I am _finally_ trying to say is that you're in the middle of the biggest bunch of social rejects on the planet. Believe it or not – you fit in perfectly."

John watched everyone nod in agreement with Rodney's declaration. He chuffed, and when nobody reacted to the odd little habit it struck him that, well, nobody _had_ in weeks. He didn't have to hide his nature around this lot – they really didn't give a shit he was vargyr. Man, he should have hung out with scientists sooner. He had to swallow hard a few times against the lump that suddenly formed in his throat. Teyla reached over then and gave his hand a squeeze.

_Whether you like it or not,_ she thought and smiled, _I think you have found a new House._

John looked at her, then a slow smile lit his face. _I think you're right._ Then he looked at all the other smiles directed towards him. He started to speak, but had to clear his throat. Even then, his voice was still rough. "Why did you have to call him the Czechoslovakian Barry White, McKay? Why? The image…." He closed his eyes, shook his head, and put his fingers on his temple.

Laughter filled the cafeteria once again.

-oOo-

Just before dinner Lorne came and got John and brought him down to Elizabeth's office. The door closed behind them and John felt a momentary rush of panic. But the atmosphere in the office was relaxed with an undercurrent of excitement, so he didn't feel too worried. O'Neill was present and standing at parade rest, his expression completely unreadable as usual. Lorne joined him, and Elizabeth gestured to one of the chairs in front of her desk. "Please have a seat, John."

He sat in one of the low padded chairs and glanced around the office. She had several African masks and pieces of art decorating the room, and a few other pieces that he couldn't identify. He tapped the arms a couple times and raised his eyebrows at Elizabeth.

Elizabeth smiled at him. "Major Lorne came to me with a proposition, and after a short discussion, we'd like to run it by you."

"Okay," John replied reluctantly.

"We could always use another helicopter around here," Lorne said. "We're constantly ferrying scientists to and from the mainland, and we bring equipment over that's pretty sensitive and needs to be airlifted over. A good pilot would be – will be needed."

"We would help you get recertified," O'Neill added. "And from what I read in your service record, that should be a piece of cake."

John found he was barely breathing. He had wondered when his hush-up bribe would come, but from what he could feel in the room right now, the offer was genuine. He glanced at Lorne and could feel a touch of anxiety there, but it wasn't a bad feeling. More like nervous excitement, really.

They must have taken his silence as indecision because Elizabeth said, "You would be offered a good salary, and your own quarters. There is also full insurance, and four weeks of vacation time. Take some time, think about it. You could even go home for awhile, if you want."

At the mention of home, John's face dropped. The place was probably a disaster right now. "Yeah, home. Might be a good idea, since I didn't get to, well, close things up before …." He shrugged.

Lorne made a strangled sound and actually slapped his forehead. O'Neill gave him an odd look. "Crap, I completely forgot to tell you. While you were out of it after your surgery, I had a couple people go to your place and winterize it." He grimaced guiltily. "I'm afraid a couple of raccoons ripped through the screen door and tore the place up pretty bad. At least it wasn't a bear."

John just stared at Lorne for a few seconds, then the corner of his mouth crooked up. "Um, thanks." Lorne nodded. John faced Elizabeth. "I, ah, would like to go home and think about it. Give you an answer in, oh, a week?" He already knew what his answer was going to be, but he did want to go home first.

Elizabeth smiled. "That would be fine."

John raised his eyebrows in an unspoken question of _are we done?_ She nodded and he stood up to leave. He paused at the door, however, and turned to O'Neill and Lorne. "Say, I've been wondering – what happened to that Ford kid? I haven't seen him around lately."

"He and Sgt. Bates are pulling guard duty now for the embassy in Saudi Arabia," O'Neill replied.

John just raised his eyebrows briefly. Well, they were being good soldiers and following orders. He was actually glad nothing bad happened to them, but he still would have liked to have had the opportunity to corner them in a dark hallway and beat the shit out of them. Would have made _him_ feel better. Ah, well…. He nodded to everyone and left, and before he got all the way through control he was grinning.

-oOo-

One week later John was standing in the tiny kitchen of his cabin. He glanced around the small dark room – the shudders were over the windows and the only light came from the small overhead in the kitchen. The few pieces of furniture he had were covered, and the normally crammed bookshelves were empty. What few personal belongings he had that he was taking with him back to Atlantis were already packed up, and it was pathetic that they took up less space than his clothes did. For almost six years he'd lived in this space, and for six years he thought he'd been perfectly content.

Now that he looked back on it, what he really had been for all that time was _alone_.

Yeah, he went into town maybe a couple times a week, played pool, joked with the locals, but he always came back here by himself. Hell, he never even had a _woman_ here, and once his cat disappeared, he never did get another. No, he decided that if he stayed, he'd be well on his way to becoming a crazy old hermit who would make the Unibomber seem well adjusted. He sighed heavily and shook his head.

He made another sweep of the cabin, checked all the cupboards to make sure there wasn't a scrap of food in the place, tested the faucets to make sure the water was completely shut off, then after one last look around the room, shut the light off. He set a padlock on the heavy door, then closed the screen door and made sure it was latched tight. Someone was going to swing by once a month and make sure packrats hadn't taken up residence and check for vandalism. The garage was locked down tight, the fuel tank empty, and anything of value had been given away. He took a minute to look out at the woods behind the cabin – there was already a skiff of snow on the ground and he could see the deer had already completely wiped out what little remained in his small garden and raspberry patch. The pile of wood was the same as when he left it, and he turned his back to it and marched around the garage to the driveway.

Ronon was leaning against the back of his truck, arms crossed and smirking. John's worldly belongings were loaded in the back, and it only filled maybe a fifth of the bed. "Ready?" Ronon said.

"Yeah." They climbed in. Once they got to the airport, John was handing the keys and title over to Bill, the mechanic that worked there.

As they started to pull away, Ronon gave John a sideways look. "Gonna miss the place?"

"Yes and no," John replied. Yes, because there was a good chunk of his life on this plot of land. No, because the only person he had to share that life with was himself.

He never did look in the rearview mirror.

-oOo-

Lorne hoisted the flamethrower and frowned. The last time he picked the thing up, the circumstances were too horrible to contemplate. Now he was going to be doing the same thing all over again.

But this time, it was going to bring some much needed closure.

"You ready, major?" Col. Stephen Caldwell said. The bald man had the nose of an amateur boxer and the demeanor of a bulldog, but in the past week had proved to be a very intelligent and fair man. He got along right away with Dr. Weir, which shocked the hell out of Lorne, and had actually proved to have a fairly dry sense of humor. And he was currently holding the other flamethrower.

"Yes, sir."

Caldwell nodded to him, then turned to face the other two people currently in the armory with them – Zelenka and Carson. "Gentlemen," he said and they all filed out.

They took one of the freight elevators down to SL3 instead of the main ones because of the flamethrowers, and made the long trek to the holding cells. The doors slid open, and the smell that rolled out was horrible. Zelenka gagged, but he pushed his glasses up and stepped through the doors with others, his face just as set and determined.

Michael was standing in the center of his cell. He had to cannibalize his own body to heal the damage from the bullets, so now his stained and tattered scrubs hung on a frame that was nothing more than skin stretched over bones. He hissed at the men, but then cocked his head when he saw the flamethrowers. "Ah, my father must be dead," he rasped. And smiled.

Zelenka hurriedly attached the leads from his pad to the controls of the cell and backed up as far as he could go. Carson stood right next to him, his lips drawn in and his expression pained. Zelenka kept his gaze away from Michael and quickly made adjustments, then looked at the colonel. "Ready to drop your side of the shield at your word."

Caldwell and Lorne both started the ignition flame and raised their weapons.

Michael started to laugh softly. "I will give my father your regards when I see him in hell."

Caldwell nodded, the shield dropped, and fire engulfed Michael. He threw his head back and howled with laughter. He didn't struggle, and his emaciated body went up so quickly that within a matter of seconds he collapsed, and inside of a minute he was discorporate ash. Caldwell and Lorne snapped off their flamethrowers and lowered them.

Carson stepped forward and glanced down at the blackened ash. "Rest in peace, you poor bugger," he muttered. Then he glanced at Zelenka – the man looked disgusted and sad all at the same time. "Do we need to do anything else, Radek?"

"No, no. Once ash, it is over."

"Good," Caldwell said. "Get a team to hose this place down, and once they're done, I want these cells dismantled. Dr. Zelenka, make sure that field generator gets back to where it belongs."

"Yes, colonel."

They all took one last look at the pile of ash, then left in silence.

_-The End-_

_End Note: That's it. Nothing left to see. Move along. :) Oh man, there was so much I didn't get into this that I wanted to. Sigh. Guess that means I'll have to do a sequel. And the scary thing is, I do have an idea and a title. Crap. But, must draw first since that muse is speaking to me again after a four year absence. Thank you all for following me on this twisted little journey. Take care!! _


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